


universe wrapped in skin

by lady_in_aquamarine



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Long-Lost Relative trope, Multi, Murder Husbands, Will is Pubert Addams, and kinda mixture of diffrerent versions of Addams Family, dissociative fugue, he has no idea what it means, it's postcanon for Addams family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_in_aquamarine/pseuds/lady_in_aquamarine
Summary: Doctor Lecter didn't think he would ever have friends till he met Wednesday Glicker and her family. He neither thought there is someone with such pitch-black soul as him. It was the only time he was glad that he was wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

\- «And darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light». So the darkness comes first – and you can barely see what’s happening. But dark is everything but emptiness it’s more like… consummation. You’re attracted to the bright spot almost in the middle – a young man in the ray of light coming through the half-open door. He is stripped like a Greek god of renascence era, but painting seems to be more realistic - kind of caught in action. He’s hanging out his wet definitely just washed clothes. Everything seems normal, because you’re looking, but not seeing. And then slap – and you see. Peace by peace… knives and hooks and fly-fishing baits and drying blood … and in the very end the corpse which is almost a shadow play in many layers of half-translucent acrylic paint but he’s here, as real as the man.  Work itself made in a smooth tedious technic and styled in rich, warm and shiny colors of morning sun with a shameless use of chiaroscuro. Even black is somehow greenish, but chosen palette feels so wrong…

\- Peaceful instead of scary.

\- Even pastoral I’d said… Sorry for interrupting but you’ve been admiring this painting for so long while others rarely cast a glance at it … So I just couldn’t help myself, felt like you should be pushed off the cliff.

-  Actually I was having an inner battle between letting it go and making an attempt of buying from the new owner, but if it’s what you want Ms…

\- Glicker…

\- If it’s what you want Ms. Glicker, I won’t act like a gentleman.

\- You don’t have to. It’s not sold. Sometimes I just hang my own _amateur_ works among paintings of established artists with this – she unstuck a small note attached to the frame and crumpled it up, - and watch what happens. It’s a benefit of being an owner of an art gallery.

\- Amateur? - asked the man with a mischievous twinkle, turning his head to the woman he was talking to. She was short, probably no more than five foot two and four-inch stilettos didn’t really help to change her appearance. She had triangle face of pale color, even too pale for considering using ceruse if she hadn’t got exactly the same tone of skin on her hands, cherry-wine lips, hazel eyes with dark smoky make-up on and shoulder-length wavy black hair, but somehow in her black and white bow tie dress she didn’t look like Halloween’s anachronism with all its vampires and witches. Her darkness was on the very edge of theatrical without crossing the line and the man admired her sense of style. He himself preferred classical plain three-piece suits – the ones that fit almost everywhere, and definitely would choose something less eccentric if he were her, but it, after all, was her choice, - I would call _this_ an excellent piece of macabre. 

\- I’m a humble person, so give «The Fisherman» your price if you still want to get it knowing the backstory.

\- Not before I get some more information.  Painting is called «The Fisherman» and what about the real name of your muse?

\- It’s Pubert Addams, my younger brother, or my extrapolation of his appearance if he was still with us.

\-  My condolences…

\- It’s ok. It’s more than twenty years passed,- she inhaled, shifting from one foot to the other, - there was lots of blood in the car left in the forest, but police didn’t find the bodies, neither his nor _papa’s._

\- It should be a cruel blow for your mother…

\- She died nine weeks before that happened, and they went fishing for shaking sorrow off and never came back. Gomez Addams age 53 and his third son age 5. We ended up in a torture of unknowing, but spirits say they are still among undead.

\- Should I tell you that spiritualists are usually just good psychologists, which say things people want to hear?

\- Pugsley stopped my heart for seven minutes. I _was_ on the other side myself - she clicked her tongue, -  And they’re not there.

\- Oh… it’s kind of radical.

\- Lies, kidnapping, torturing, murdering… Nothing is too much when it comes to family, Doctor Lecter.

\- Don’t know should I be pleased or frightened by the fact that you knew my name before I’ve introduced myself.

\- Let it be both, or something in between.

\- Between will do. So… «The Fisherman» and its price…

Wry smile Ms. Glicker gave him made Hannibal set the price five percent higher than he would do in another situation, but investment definitely worth it. He really rarely had met people with such darkness inside, which wasn’t hidden under layers of socially acceptable masks or put in prison.  Wednesday was a masterpiece, she was already finished and had an owner, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a look at her, or get her personal number, affably written on the opposite side of her business card. She promised, if she ever gets modern macabre exhibited for sale – he would be one of the firsts she would call.

On the therapy session Doctor Du Maurier told him, that trying to get closer to Mrs. Glicker is stepping on the thin ice, well, when he wasn’t there? The only problem with starting friendship was three and a half hour road from Baltimore to Westfield. It was too long for often «accidental» meetings. He thought that implementation was going to take lots of time and perfected patience, but Wednesday and her husband Joel, who turned out to be a really successful criminal defense lawyer, were doing their own steps towards him.

Soon having accepted the invitation for Halloween party Hannibal found out, that those Glickers are just a small part of Addamses clan, really spooky and odd, and Wednesday is the fourth child of decided Morticia and presumed to be dead Gomez Addams. Besides her, there is Pugsley Sr., Wednesday Sr., Pugsley Jr. - all with families of their own, except the youngest one kid - Pubert, which is presumed to be as dead as his father. Uncle Fester (blows up everything, but has some kind of social phobia, so just skip him), uncle Itt with his wife Margaret, and their sons What and Tully, aunt Melancholia (been married six times, all deceased) and her clumsy sister Catastrophia, cousin Lumpy, cousin Monday Jones(if she smiles at you – call emergency and ask which poison she has poured in your glass), uncle Pancho, aunt Ophelia (be careful ‘cause she uses taekwondo without warning) – after them he was introduced to first, Doctor Lecter was lost in genealogy without understanding  why they all keep in touch. He didn’t memorize all the names, though he truly tried because there were more than a hundred completely new to him people there. Party was entertaining, but it ended up with an explosion of home-made fireworks on the ground. It felt completely different from all odious upper crust’s parties.

For returning the favor Hannibal invited Wednesday and Joel for dinner and it was just the very begging of something as close to friendship as it might be, and that was lasting for four and a half years before his path crossed with William Graham’s.  It was the second nail in the coffin of his complete loneliness. Under layers of misunderstanding and normal-looking was something that Will himself called unpalatable thoughts. So Hannibal asked about his family, just to be sure that he hadn’t run into the other Addams. Will was raised by lone father in a never-ending journey since the time he remembered. Chances were between slim and nil, so Doctor Lecter started his devilish act.

His behavior with Will most certain became transference mixed with jealousy, but knowing didn’t mean resisting. Hannibal invited him among his usual dinner guests, just to see Wednesday’s face, who insisted on helping with cooking since her husband left for California, protecting some mass murder and daughters were in boarding school, but she was late, almost too late for the show, since Will wanted to leave, mumbling silly apologies.

\- I just wanted to say that I can’t stay. I don't think I would be good company.

\- Nonsense… If Han invited you-you should stay. Some would definitely kill for such invitation; - Wednesday appeared as if she had just woven of the shadows. She definitely used the emergency key instead of door ring, but her mysterious showing up was worth forgiveness.

\- Oh… I… -Will’s voice sounded kind of shocked, - his eyes were shifting from Hannibal to the woman in black dress and back without any sight of understanding. He couldn’t read her as well as he couldn’t read Doctor Lecter. Was she his girlfriend? Was even the word "girlfriend" fitting for people like them both? Then he saw the wedding ring on her finger and it made things even more complicated. Lovers? Beyond any doubt, not blood relatives.

-I’m Wednesday and you must have been Mister Graham, – Will heard some inarticulate sound coming from his mouth as an answer before she continued, - He speaks about you a lot…

\- Don't just stand there, then. It looks really heavy, - Hannibal cleared some space on the kitchen counter, so she could put there something wrapped in tons of foil, newspapers and a couple of terry towels.

\- Oh yes, I’ve almost forgotten… If you don’t want to serve this, just put Pyrex in the fridge. It wouldn’t offend me.

\- As you wish. When should I give it back?

\- I would easily survive a couple of weeks.

\- I gotta go. I have a date with Chesapeake Ripper - Will tried to escape for one more time, - have a nice evening.

\- I’m sure he’s a lovely person, but there ain’t anything you can’t cancel, - convinced him Wednesday exchanging meaningful glances with Hannibal at the same time. Will made a step back but felt strong hand pulling him back. It was too strong for a woman looking like her. - Maybe we should tie him up? It worked with the twins way back when they didn’t want to eat…

\- I don’t think it’s acceptable with FBI agent.

\- What about this as an argument? – The view of a razor blade pulled out from her mouth, made Will’s stomach clutch. There was some red lipstick on it and it brought to his mind pictures of blood, cut out tongues and Chelsea smiles.  It was disgusting… and scary at the same time. In addition, it reminded him of something he couldn’t quite remember. He shook his head.

\- I’ll stay if you tell me how you manage to do this without harming yourself, and won’t put it back.

\- Shameless… - Wednesday gave them both a sly smile like there weren’t two more helpers in the kitchen. She was wrapping blade inside handkerchief she pulled out her pocket, - You see, Hannibal, I’m better at convincing people.

\- You just frighten them…

\- Whatever.

 - Would you be so kind… ? – the man gestured towards his half-done cream that needed all his attention and wrapped glass pan.

\- Of course, - she pulled one of the knives out of support, and started cutting tape that held everything - I’ll just gut this monster first.

 - Smells familiar, that’s it?

\- The last one who was disturbing me, - she answered without hesitation, putting knife aside and using her bare hands instead.

\- Was that raccoon so annoying? – Wednesday gave him a shocked but impressed look over her shoulder. And it made Will shiver, - What? When I was a kid we hit them with car numerous times. No sense in wasting meat.

\- Congratulations. You’re the first who guessed the meat right from the first attempt. Indeed it’s grilled raccoon with thistle souse.

\- So, we’re playing the usual guessing game? – Hannibal raised his eyebrow, he knew that all helpers turned into ears, but didn’t really mind this.

\- It’s _your_ dinner. I’m happy to assist whatever you’re serving. And you, Will – is it ok if I call you that? – sit finally down and enjoy the show.  It’s rare when chaotic evil cooperate with lawful one.

\- It’s from D & D, isn’t it? – she nodded, - I understand why chaotic and lawful but why evil for both?

\- Good ones don’t kill for dinner, - said Hannibal.

\- Vegan, then… Makes point.

\- There is the point in everything if we don’t see it – we’re blind, - assured him Wednesday.

Seating arrangement was made that way for Will get trapped between unknown woman and Alana with Hannibal being on the opposite side of the table. It is placed, where either hostess or honored guest sits, so he felt really uncomfortable, as he’s been put on display for the other’s amusement, though all other classical arrangement rules seemed to be broken. Things got even worse when he got confused by cutlery and Alana lightly kicked him under the table.

\- Wrong one… - she mumbled quietly giving him a maternal glance, - not this… Yes.

Then, he almost knocked down his wine-glass, when someone’s mobile screamed. It was an awful choice of ringtone, however, it definitely was hearable. 

-Excuse me, I’d better answer. - Wednesday blushed to the roots of her hair, picking a phone from her pocket, and leaving the room. When she returned a couple of minutes after her face was pale, lips were pursed and her hands were trembling, as she squeezed back of her chair for support.

\- Unfortunately, I have to go.

\- Did something happen? – Doctor Lecter tilted his head to the left and slowly stood up.

\- Yes, and I don’t want to ruin the dinner by saying things out loud. Once again, Hannibal, excuse me.

\- Of course. I'll walk you to the door and if you need something, Wednesday…

\- I know and thanks, – she stepped back, - Would you mind if I leave my car here till the morning? I don’t think I would be able to drive today.

\- I can give you a lift, - suggested Will raising up too and following them to the hall. Probably it was the only chance to escape from this Vanity Fair both politely and saving his face, though he felt really guilty for being glad for this call.

\- I’d better call the taxi.

\- You live Westfield, Wen, - reminded Hannibal, - it’s at least three-hour drive.  I won’t persuade you to stay, but...

\- No… - she blurted out, lowering her eyes the moment after, - I mean… it’s really kind of you two, but I shouldn’t bother you.

\- It’s not hard for me at all, - convinced her Will.

\- Only if you’re sure…

When they finally left Doctor Lecter’s house with a plan of getting to the closest airport, Wednesday leaned on the hood of her car and heavily breathed out.

\- I’m going to break down in a couple of minutes… I hope you don’t mind sobbing woman.

\- I won’t ask anything, but you can lend my ears wherever you feel ready, - Will’s hand stopped halfway to Wednesday’s shoulder. It was most certainly unacceptable to touch her without permission. Wednesday, as well as him, didn’t seem to be a hugging person. She was one of those bitter women, that accidentally become heads of families, pushing their husbands aside step by step till they can’t make any decisions, but even from all those meters Will could feel her anger mixed with fear.

\- Just don’t tell anyone about this,- Wednesday turned around and grabbed the lapels of his jacket smashing their lips together. Will got frozen for a second, but before he could do something the chaste kiss was already over.

\- What the hell?

\- Since police think that in one of the hotels of L.A. lays my dead husband that is shot twice in a head I should get used to kissing men, who’re not him, - explained the woman with a dangerous smirk or was it just the trick of the evening light? Will focused his eyes on clip attracted on the left side of her haircut. It turned out to be a small skull made of bone.

\- It can be someone looking much alike. You still got hope.

\- Groady feeling… - Wednesday crossed her arms on her chest, -  They said the same when my father and brother got lost without a trace. Sometimes I dream of how they show up at the door of our old house in New Orleans: half-rotten, with numerous scars and necrosis… but alive. It would be such bliss, but nothing happens. Call me a cynic, but I would rather prefer being a certain widow to this waiting torture.

\- You know pain, it ok, that you don’t want it back. – Will opened the passenger’s seat of his car for her, - Are you sure about the airport?

\- Yes. I… I’m not good with people… It seems that you’re neither. Might we just ride in silence?

Will felt a heaving sigh escaping his lungs. No small talks were the best thing he could expect. During all the way they didn’t exchange even a couple of words. Silently crying, Wednesday turned her face to the window, as she was smearing her mascara by wiping tears with the back of her hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Next Tuesday FBI got the new case. A couple in their thirties was found in the small abandoned Catholic church halfway from Baltimore to Westfield. The man was hanged on the cross, with the woman kneeled at his feet. Both of them were faceless with skin surgically removed, and from the first look composition seemed to be a lot like a work of Chesapeake ripper.

\- The number you have dialed is either unattended or out of coverage area, – the same mechanical voice was answering Will’s phone again and again. It was strange because he did never turn his phone off, but not impossible. When the situation didn’t change during the next six hours – Jack started to worry as much as to drive from crime scene straight to Wolf Trap. It was late evening when he finally got there and so the lights were out.

Jack knocked uncertainly, but there was no movement in the house except polyphonic barking. His heart started sinking…

\- What time do you call this? – an unknown woman was the one who opened the door. She was in a wrinkled fancy dress, barefoot… and with ax clutched to her chest. They both got frozen for a moment – Jack understanding, that probably he wouldn’t be able to take out his gun fast enough, she – thinking god only knows that about.

\- William… There a strange man here. Should I let him in or chop his head off? – Her voice turned to be unexpectedly gruff and scratchy as she was crying days though. As special agent Graham showed up, Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

\- Dammit Will … - blurted he out, - I feel like a circus act. What happened to your phone?

\- Battery died, and there’s no electricity here for about two days. Someone knocked down the pole.

It was a paltry excuse since Jack definitely seen him charging his phone from his car couple of times, but he didn't mind lying tonight. Will told dogs to hush, but it didn’t really help. All of them stopped for a second, but then kept on barking. Although when the woman tilted her head to look fixedly at dogs, all the pack shut up in a moment and returned to their cushions whimpering quietly. Finally Will swapped places with her at the door, but still, Jack memorized that her pale face didn’t look like someone’s in her mind.

\- So. It’s agent Crawford from my work… Jack, it’s Wednesday. Jack, come in. – Will gestured inside. Jack glowered at them both, not only because Wednesday didn’t put the ax down and brought it in the living room, placing it at her feet. There was a single half –burned dead candle standing on a plate – the real proof that there wasn’t electricity in the house.

\- So, did something happen?

\- Yes… two still unidentified bodies found by a group of stalkers. We think that it’s Chesapeake Ripper. I was trying to call you out, but you seemed to enjoy a family reunion. You have never mentioned having elder sister.

Will opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say a word, Wednesday cut him off by holding up her hand. Ok, this wasn’t another lie - just misunderstanding that could be easily resolved later. There aren’t many alternatives why a married woman can be found in another man’s house in the middle of the night.

\- Why should him? - asked Wednesday leaning forward and picking up a matchbox. A small flame spread from the head to the candle, but dim light it gave wasn’t enough for seeing anything except armchairs and a big leather notebook thrown off to the floor as well as an open bottle of whiskey on the table.

\- Photos? - Will sat down too and hid his face in his hands for a moment getting ready for another nightmare as Jack passed him a huge unbleached envelope full of pictures as well as case reports in a common-looking folder. Unretouched photos never were the real crime scene, but still could produce goosebumps running down the spine. There wasn’t a lot of blood on the floor or elsewhere – the murder itself happened somewhere in a different place. The man was crucified on the cross and but died hours later from the knife wound in his liver, while the woman was strangled, but had tape residues on her skin.

\- May I also have a look? – Wednesday bent over the table and picked up one of the lists with no sight of shock, poring over the pictured scene with psychic smile.

\- It’s definitely not the Ripper, - summarized she after a long minute.

\- I think so as well, - said Will, he didn’t need to reconstruct the whole murder’s design to reach the same conclusion.

\- Why? - asked Jack, turning into a dog, that got a sniff of the fowl, - No vitals. No heart in her body and spleen in his.

\- Ripper has his own significant style… - started Will, turning his head to Wednesday, cause he didn’t want to look at the man. In the weak and unsteady candlelight, she looked much better than in a cold blue one of Hannibal’s dining room. She bit her upper lip holding her tongue. He blinked because her face was somehow shapeshifting and getting blurry. For a second he saw another woman with a much more sharp face and straight hair, but then Wednesday opened her mouth and delusion disappeared.

… - And this is a crude forgery of early Italian Renaissance, which is not even close to reproductions. Ripper would never stoop to this.

\- You seem to be plenty confident for civilian, - there was definitely a mockery as well as a suspect in Jack’s tired voice, but Wednesday pretended that she didn’t head them.

\- I’ve seen this composition before. It’s Luca Signorelli, his «Crucifixion with Mary Magdalen» to be precisely accurate... – Wednesday had an abnormally joyful smile on her face, as it’s been Christmas or her birthday, and this case was the coolest gift ever. - And it’s a least third murder that springs to life different paintings of crucifixion. All of them have Mary Magdalen on it. «The Crucifixion with Saint Mary Magdalene» by Placido Costanzi three years ago in Florida and three years before that in Texas there was a copy of «Crucifixion with Saint Mary Magdalene» original of which was created by unknown Venetian master. Maybe there are more, that I don’t know about. 

\- Do you think they are all connected?

\- You tell me. I’m just a sales-woman in her mid-forties.

Jack rolled his eyes, but Will couldn’t help but smile. If only his boss knew that really Wednesday sales.

* * *

\- Good evening Will, you look fretted, - Hannibal said, as he made a step back in his office letting patient come in.

\- Yes. No. Don’t know if it’s acceptable to talk about this with you, - Will ran his hand through his hair. He watched Hannibal close the door and sit on his usual spot.

\- With _me_ you can talk about everything. No matter how odd or perverted theme is. What's troubling you? - his tone was mind and confident, as it always has been.

\- Wednesday, - Will lamented in undertone getting ready to back out at any time, - Was it you, who gave her my address?

Hannibal drew forward. With his slightly parted lips and eyebrows raised in amazement, he looked really insulted.

\- I would never do this without your permission.

\- Then how she ended up at my door in the early morning with a blackberry pie for which I couldn’t find a name for even in the Net?

\- You’re not the first who’s asking this kind of questions. Sometimes she just knows things that she shouldn’t know, - assured him the psychiatrist, - Is that what's bothering you?

Will shrugged.

\- Not really…

\- If not this, then what?

-Wednesday is a friend of yours. Is it right that we are talking about her behind her back? – asked he.

\- In this office I’m psychiatrist first of all. All my personal affections and relations are cut to the root; in addition, anything you say wouldn’t leave these walls…

\- She is…- Will felt words caught in his throat, but he managed to finish the sentence on the second attempt, - She is a hurricane put in a small box. Once you touch everything gets out and there is no way to stop her.

\- Do you want her to stop doing what she's doing? - Hannibal asked quietly. One corner of his mouth curled up a bit, as he is been enjoying this kind of sadistic interrogation.

\- At least to slow down. She said that’s she’s not good with people and then she… - Will bit his tongue in the very last moment almost telling a secret that didn’t belong only to him, - dammit, it sounds silly.

\- Not at all. As far as I get your thought, Mrs. Glicker is too pushy about your relationships.

-I wouldn’t describe this as pushy, no. - Will shook his head, squeezing his hands on armrests for support, - It feels like she’s been in my life for years not less than two weeks. And that is scary as hell.

\- Why is it such scary for you?

\- I’m too comfortable around her. I usually mind when someone is near, and she spent the whole day at my house before I even figure that out. I don’t know what might have happened if Jack didn’t show up at the door.

\- You mean sex? – Hannibal pressed onwards with a completely straight face, as they’ve been discussing the weather, but Will got red to his roots.

\- No! - He was gasping for air and coughing for such a long time for Doctor Lecter had to offer him a glass of water. It took two draughts for Will to empty it.

\- Even the thought of her in this way makes me dizzy. Like she’s a sister I never had.

\- What makes you feel so?

\- The silence… People who don’t want to study me, always want something from me and I don’t have anything good to give. I’m either hollow or full of someone else’s thoughts. She is cut from the same cloth.

\- And she doesn’t need anything from you, - summed up Hannibal. 

\- Not a single word.

\- So, you don’t find her attractive, isn’t it?

\- You can’t get physically attracted to someone you have too much in common. I’m more likely to fall for Alana or even you, - Will was mumbling so quietly at the end of his phrase that it took Hannibal some time not only to process the words but also to soothe the savage beast inside that was trying to get everything at once. It was too early for any kind of confessions.

The only thought that Doctor Lecter allowed to himself was about Alana. Likely Doctor Bloom did belong to that kind of persons, which keep messing everything up no matter how hard they want not to do this. All he needed to do – be patient and wait long enough for them to cross both of the lines; probably this would happen in one day.

\- Is this statement coming from previous experience or it’s just reflection on the issue?

\- What do you think?

* * *

\- What do you think? – Wednesday put sketchbook and pencil aside and glanced up to her husband.

\- Meine Schöne*, do you really believe, that I can make important decisions in such a state? – Mr. Glicker was talking slowly notably drawing out vowels. He was sitting up in bed propped against pillows and his head was wrapped in bandages a la turban but in all other respects he was perfectly fine.

Surgeon who operated on him said that bullet wounds he got should have been incompatible with life. So thought and the police, since they sent him to morgue first. Only after some hours spent in the fridge, Joel regained consciousness and scared pathologist to death by knocking from the inside. Well, you need something more, then loaded revolver to take Addams down. Since Wednesday’s chosen one didn’t belong to the clan by birth, he didn’t get away safely, but unbelievable Addamses’ luck extended to him too because the marriage was voluntary and unmercenary.

Week and a half later Joel returned to his home, high on morphine he was prescribed. Though he was recovering miraculously fast he was still looking more like uncle Fester’s twin then usual self. In that very evening, his grown quiet wife dropped a bomb, as she always did. At least this time it was a metaphoric bomb. Joel was quite sure that more than thirty years by Wednesday’s side since they met at camp Chippewa got him ready for any kind of craziness and madness, but he was struck all of a heap by the suggestion of adoption of serial killer’s daughter.

\- Which state, милый**? – Wednesday shifted closer to him on the bed. Her tone was filthy but still quite serious and worrying.

\- You know, the head.

\- I can always cut it off if it hurts too much. Such a shame it wasn’t me who got inside your skull. Was it painful to get shot?

\- Not really, more like ant bites. One, - Joel pressed his finger to the same place on Wednesday’s head where the first bullet entered his own. The woman closed her eyes and snuggled up to the touch, - then the other. I drowned into the darkness. When I open my eyes for the next time I thought I was in the afterlife. It was dark and cold there. Exactly how Dante described the circle of inferno for traitors. Since I promised to return and didn’t… - he left the end of the sentence hanging.

\- Do you think you’ll go to hell? – she asked.

\- If you’ll be there too, it would turn to heaven, - he kissed back of her hand and pulled Wednesday closer, cuddling up to her.

\- It sounds so sweet, Joel. You and me…in fire, ashes and smoke with screaming and moaning people around. It reminds me of our trip to Afghanistan.

\- Don’t tease… - he pressed his lips to her forehead, - I’m confined to bed rest.

\- I’ll do my best for you to stay here as long as possible, - Wednesday slid one leg over his spread body and arched over, almost straddling his hips. She steadied herself up with her knees supporting her weight, as she held on headboard on either side of his head. Way back in their youth Joel would have been already caught by black vipers of her hair flowing down over her shoulders to his chest, but nowadays his wife’s haircut was too shot. - Isn’t it what good wives do?

She leaned forward giving him a short kiss that ended with his teeth biting her lower lip when Wednesday was about to pull back.

\- You are doing this again: using sex as a weapon against me,- He threw back his head almost hitting the headboard, when she roughly pushed him flat on his back, thanks to all the pillows to keep him safe.

\- Is it a sin that after all these years my husband still turns me on? – Wednesday admitted with a predatory grin on her face, as she started to unbutton his pajama shirt as carefully as it was only possible, without losing line of thought. - Then I’m a sinner.

\- I’d prefer you to return me my glasses. All I can see is a blurred silhouette of you, - she gave him а judgmental look, as those glasses were ruining the mood far too often, but Joel didn’t seem to mind her silent rebellion today. His hands slid under the hem of the nightgown, tracing lines and circles on her thighs and stomach, till the left palm got pressed hard just under the navel. Wednesday let out a small surprised whimper when she crushed on his lap.

\- Too much?

He shook his head no with a noticeable effort.

\- I still wonder how Donna and Missy both fit inside you at the same time.

\- Shall I remind you that we have more than two offsprings… - Wednesday slid straps off her shoulders leaving obsidian silk bunched up around her waist, - We have quite of experience and also can easily take custody of one more.

She started with peppering kisses to his jawline, moving to the neck and down to finally choose the right place for a bite on his exposed chest. The pressure was right enough for not breaking the skin, but it left a certain mark. She caressed that wound-to-be by her thumb for a short moment and sunk teeth into the same place once again, his time not teasing at all, but establishing possession. A drop of dark blood appeared on the edge of the red ring. 

-Wen, - Joel hissed, pulling her hair, but couldn’t quite tell whether it was a reprimand or a groan. Nevertheless, his voice was perfectly calm, - I can’t fully understand are we making our fifth kid or talking about adoption?

\- Оne does not preclude the other, - She purred, taking both of his hands in hers and guiding them to the right place on her breast like he was an unskilled teenager. They both were one day, giggling and watching porn from a video store for educational purposes, - I can stop taking pills if it’s what you want, but that girl needs some good example to take after.

\- I’ve seen the news. Indeed her father was more than just sloppy… - the sheets were pushed down at the foot. He lifted up a bit, so Wednesday could get him out of his clothes, - Murders, especially serial, need a cold mind and a firm hand.

\- So? Is it yes? – asked she lining them up and easily, but far too slowly sliding down on him with no more than a heavy sight while her husband gasped at the familiar sensation.

\- How can I say no to such a rusalka?*** - he smiled, but it never required a lot from her to wipe this smug off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * meine Schöne (German)- my beautiful.  
> ** Милый (Russian) - darling  
> *** In Slavic folklore rusalka is an evil spirit of young woman, which died in or near a river or a lake( mostly committed suicide by drowning). Her main purpose is, however, to lure young men, seduced by either her looks or her voice and kill them. In difference from mermaid doesn’t have a fish tail 
> 
> _________________  
> Since in 1991 film Gomez Addams mentions Cossack cousins, l suppose that among Spanish origins Addams have Russian roots too, so i don't find it impossible for Wednesday to speak Russian.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Minutes lasted like hours, hours felt like days and days? They turned to be little eternities. Abigail wasn’t bored, no, she’s always been good at being on her own, but they didn’t let her out of the facility as she’s been already imprisoned without trial. It felt the worse of all on a par with group therapy for abuse victims. She doesn’t feel like she’s been abused at all. It’s such a shame, that her father’s hand slipped – as a dead person she wouldn’t have to carefully study her next steps. On the other hand, when FBI and others were not around she had a rare ability to do what she’s really wanted. She was in a temporary cage, filing all the days by messy reading choices, but still free.

The usual silence was broken by the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Clicking of heels was an uncommon sound for this place; employees, as well as patients, tended to wear flats. It was getting closer and closer till stopped right behind her door. There was a long uncertain pause, then knocking. Abigail marked the place where she was going to left off reading when an unknown woman dressed in all black came in. She stayed at the door for a while, studying the room with judgment in her eyes as a visitor’s card was swinging on a blue twine wrapped around her left wrist.

\- Good evening, miss Hobbs… - she nodded, silently asking the strange woman to finally sit down, - My name is Wednesday Glicker. Did someone tell you the reason why I’m here?

\- No… - Abigail bit her lip, trying to figure out all the possible options for one more time now, when she saw her visitor in person, but failed,-  They just said that you’re an artist. I don’t have much entertainment here in the hospital, so why not speak to you?

\- Would you prefer me to let the cat out of the bag right now? – asked the woman gently, pulling off her leather gloves that were liberally perfumed with a mixture of tuberose with something rotten - the scent reminded of an old graveyard after a sultry day, - If not, we may chat first.

\- And what would _you_ prefer? – Abigail moved closer on the bed, analyzing her guest… If this woman was really an artist, she definitely had been more than just successful. And from this point of view, she had no reason to be interested in serial killer’s daughter, except maybe drawing her portrait for some pervert moneybag. But this Wednesday had a big diamond ring on her left hand… Married. She’s a desperate and bored to death housewife – summed up Abigail with a great relief. Nothing to worry about.

\- Long way round, but straight to the deal, - continued in the meantime Mrs. Glicker, - What do you know about Salem witch trials?

It was an unexpected question.

\- Not much. I'm failing to see the connection with your visit.

The woman sighed in a slight disappointment. Well, what did she expected of her? Quoting Emily Dickinson by heart and acting like a lady? In uncomfortable silence Abigail heard a faint sound of something scratching. It seemed to be coming from reticule Wednesday brought with her, but could most certainly be a misheard.

\- Among all the witches, accused during this hysteria were sisters Esther and Calpurnia Addams, as well as teenage girl Abigail Hobbs and her mother, - She paused and waited for her gaze to be met. -  The first two happen to be my great aunts. It was their fault that your previous reincarnation had to confess of being a witch.

Abigail clicked her tongue. I was not what she hoped to hear. For a second she was quite sure that his woman was her distant relative somehow interested in hiding black sheep of the family from the public and getting her away from here before someone like Freddie Lounds find out anything. To the other country, probably, but all she could see now was repentance and shame, buried deep within under frigid mask that was about to crack. She was taking the blame for a crime she did not commit; in addition that Abigail was dead for years. Probably this woman was just stuck in her own reality and was undiagnosed yet.

\- The tests to prove if you were a witch or not were basically torture in those times. They all were either mentally ill or pressed into it.

\- You can’t be hundred present sure… - Wednesday drawled with an absent smile on her face. Scratching repeated much louder this time. She looked down at her bag bending her brows for a second like she’s been deciding something, - but yes, that miss Hobbs was too young for being a witch. You’d have to reach at least the age of Jesus to gain the power.

\- Tell this some of the doctors, and you’ll stay here for a while, - she tittered, but cut it out, because the woman didn’t look amused.

\- Probably yes, but most certainly no – she sighed and opened her bag to let out a disembodied female hand with mint colored nails.  The hand was noticeably bigger and of darker skin color, then the woman’s. In addition, it was moving on its own, as it seemed to forget that it’s been cut off the body, and jumped to her owner’s shoulder. Abigail dashed aside from both of them, pulling her legs to the chest in horror.

\- What? I mean… is it some kind of trick or animatronic?

\- Of course no. Do I look like some cheap illusionist? – Convinced her Wednesday, tapping on a spare place between them, - Come closer, Constance doesn’t bite. Actually, she’s a lovely girl.

In response, the hand made some gesture that seemed to be some kind of thank you, but thanks god stayed at precisely the same place it was. It took all of Abigail’s willpower to remain as calm as it was only possible in such a situation, but she couldn’t make herself move.  She kept starring slowly stretching out her hand, but she jerked it back before she could really touch anything.

\- It’s not normal… - she shook her head slowly processing the new information.

Wednesday gave her a reproving look that somehow also managed to acknowledge that she’s more than right, but the woman didn’t mind being a strange bird.

 - There's no such thing as normal. It’s just things that you used to.

Abigail took a deep breath, once she’s got her questions framed.

\- But…

\- Shhh! - Wednesday lifted her hand.

\- But…

\- Nah, you can’t do this either. It’s just among us, girls, - she lightly tapped her alar with a vicious smirk.

\- Why me?

Wednesday didn’t answer. She was just sitting on the edge of the bed and looking anywhere, but not in the eyes. Abigail’s eyebrows went up; when she finally understood why she had a déjà vu since this woman came in. The same shape of the face, the same body type, even almost the same bi haircut, just slightly longer. How didn’t she figure it out earlier?

\- Oh… - Abigail let out a small gasp of surprise, -  It’s rather mean of agent Graham to send his sister to me.

-Sorry? - She managed.

-It’s kind of oblivious; - Abigail tried to explain her surmise, - your manners, appearance, even lack of eye contact, - everything points to this, though you belong to the upper crust.

She drew nearer and lay down on her stomach, propping herself on her elbows. The hand didn’t really seem as frightening as it did at first. It was somehow alive and she had seen dead bodies in father’s cabin a lot more than once.

\- Don’t know whether it’s you the one that made a good marriage or it’s him downshifted.   You’re noticeably older than him, ten years or so. From what I’ve seen by now I can tell that you have a sober mind of a kid, that grown up too early. Perhaps you got to solve problems for both of you for a long time, so one day you became the head, and he stayed as the heart. How old you were when you’re parents died?

\- Seventeen,- answered Mrs. Glicker without a hiccup, as she’s been doing this for more times than she cared to count, - But you got two things wrong… First – I came here on my own accord. And the second - I have no family ties to Will.

\- But you know him, - Abigail asserted not without substantiation.

\- Yes. I do. And I won’t hide the fact, that it was him who told me about you. I got interested… - she crossed her hands and nodded, - and here I am.

\- May I ask what had happened? To your parents.

\- TB for mother and road murder for father and younger brother. I wish I could have my sweet revenge and kill that murder with my bare hands, but I failed to find him, so did and the police.

\- Would you really do it?

\- Without any feeling of remorse. – Wednesday closed her eyes, - I know lots of potions, that are deadly as hell, work very quickly and extremely hard to detect. I’ve tested some of them on my husband.

\- You killed him!? -  Abigail jumped off her bed and froze like a deer in the headlights. The room was so empty, that she could harm neither herself nor someone. The only heavy thing was a book and it definitely wasn’t designed for knocking somebody out.

\- Of course no, I love my husband, - the woman stood up and smoothed down her dress. She didn’t step forward, didn’t move an inch, but her voice was confident enough to trust her. Abigail could easily imagine her mixing another poison with wine or sauce just to see what happens next with a sight of a scientist, not a murder. She was dangerous, but somehow on her side.

\- Still it’s some weird kind of love.

Wednesday just shrugged and gave no answer.

\- Love is always weird… -she frowned,- it makes us behave like we have no right in the head.

\- Is visiting me feels right now, then you see me in person?  - Abigail tucked her hair behind both ears at the same time, showing an ugly scar on her neck as if the sight of it could turn Wednesday off and protect her.

\- Yes… I like you. – Woman’s tone was sweet but her teeth were sharp, - You have grievous soul wounds but you’re still strong. If you decide to join our family, you’ll fit in perfectly.

\- Sorry?

\- Walls here have plenty of ears. Let’s get you out of this place, - Mrs. Glicker opened her bag for Cassandra and hand jumped inside without any arguments, - Maybe we can have dinner?

\- I need permission both from the doctor and from the tutor to get out of the hospital.

\- Not a problem. You phone Han… - she pulled out her blackberry, that she was storing in her bra and gave it to Abigail,-  I’ll take the doctor.

\- Han? – Abigail chuckled, - Do doctor Lecter really allow you to call him this way?

\- It was a long way to consensus. I’m allowed to do this; he’s welcome to call me Wen along with my husband.

\- What does happen to the others, who try to do that?

\- I snap their necks.

\- Right… there is a pattern lock.

\- Pentagram. From the left bottom corner. Put it on speakerphone.

Abigail wasn’t really interested in how Mrs. Glicker made doctors allow her to get out of the facility, but taking a deep breath, she could smell the difference between the cold air outside and chlorinated one of the hospital. The sun was slowly sinking in deep scarlet fog gathering at the sky line. Mrs. Glicker eyes flicked up to the dying star as she fought back a smile.

\- It’s going to be stormy tomorrow.

She turned around and walked towards an old-fashioned car parked nearby. Cadillac looked so shiny and well-conditioned like it’s been taken from good old days by a time traveler, though it differently was twice as old as Abigail herself, or even more. Paint looked so fresh, that girl could clearly see her own reflection in its black (not so unpredictable) fender.  She looked miserable. Much thinner, than she used to be, her face seemed to get grayer, and she could've sworn she didn’t saw crow's feet before. She didn’t realize that she’s been standing like that for too long before Wednesday asked her gently whether something was wrong.

\- Sorry. Just caught up in a daydream, – it wasn’t a dream, «not ending nightmare» was the phrase Abigail would use to describe her life through the last months. She dismissed the thought with a sweeping motion of her arm and slid down to the passenger’s seat, - You didn’t tell me where we’re going.

\- To Mr. Condo’s «Sea King»,- Woman turned the key, and carefully joined the empty road. The engine was noticeably purring, and it seemed to be doing it in a wrong tune for such an old car.

\- It’s still doesn’t explain anything to me.

\- Mr. Condo serves,- Wednesday said, - probably the best fish not only in New York but on the all East coast.

 Abigail cocked her head, trying to imagine the map. New York is built to the north-east of Baltimore. Different state, different rules. Wednesday’s offer was tempting, but frightening at the same time.

\- It’s hella far from Baltimore.

\- Not as far as it seems to you… I drove here from Westfield. It’s almost New York.

\- Westfield? – Abigail echoed.

\- Not that one in Massachusetts - clarified the woman, - New Jersey’s one.

\- You must be crazy.

\- Why thank you,- Wednesday considered her for a long moment and then asked, -  Would you prefer to stay in Baltimore?

\- Never been to New York, -Abigail trailed off in shame.

\- It’s not an answer,- the woman was still pacing. Abigail shook her head.

\- Doctor Lecter seems to trust you… I think with some effort I can do this too.

\- Will it help, if I say that I have a son of your age among three other kids?

\- Then why you’re here? – Observed she, - Aren’t you suppose to pay your attention to them?

\- One is one foot in a marriage, one in college, twins in boarding school in England.

\- Empty nest, - it’s not like the situation needed a given name, but Abigail wanted to be sure at least in one thing, as the others were not a solid ground at all. Wednesday shot her a look.

\- I don’t like the word «nest», «tomb» fits better.

\- Not at all…

Wednesday rolled her eyes. She stepped on the gas and the car easily hit the speed of hundred miles per hour. Woman cleared her throat, as they were reaching the fork in the road. One way was leading to the center of Baltimore, the other one – to the highway.

\- So. «Sea King» or somewhere else?

Abigail hesitated for a moment and nodded surely.

\- Sea King.


	4. Chapter 4

\- Twenty eight hours, not three, not even twelve… those two just vanished. No phone call, no SMS, nothing … And mobile she had left as contact number keep sending me to voice mail.

\- Good evening to you, too, Doctor Bloom… Would you be so kind as to start your speech from the very beginning? Unfortunately, I didn’t catch who had disappeared.

Alana took a deep breath, because she was one step from slapping her former mentor. Hannibal that was standing at the door of his house had predatory cold-blooded half-grin on his face, like nothing could ever bother him in this universe. This freezing calm was making her even madder, though deep inside where her rational part lived Alana knew, that he was doing things right. If he succumbs to panic too, everything will get even worse. Hannibal let her in and asked whether she wanted something, but she brushed her hair back and skipped right to the topic.

\- Abigail Hobbs… Your Mrs. Glicker took her for dinner yesterday, and that’s it. First I thought that it was too late to drive back and she stayed the night, but they didn’t come back in the morning.

\- I don’t think that there is any reason to worry about them… Wednesday has a habit of overdoing, for her dinner can easily mean a trip to Europe.

\- And knowing this you just let a girl, that is put on serious therapy go with her, - blurted out Alana, taking steps closer and closer, definitely invading personal space, but Hannibal didn’t move. He was standing right there, where he stopped, like a cliff in rough seas.

\- If you want to gain confidence of her, you shouldn’t act like a control freak… - reminded he gently, - Abigail is almost adult, and it’s better to treat her this way.

There was no sight of disapproval on Hannibal’s face, but his self-possessed tone immediately made Alana feel guilty for her behavior.  It wasn’t like she was gratuitously freaking out, but she really didn’t know the whole story about Mrs. Glicker like he knew. Telling the truth she didn’t like neither Wednesday, nor her husband, though she had seen them just couple of times during Hannibal’s dinners and didn’t have any actual reasons for disliking this family. Hadn’t had till yesterday.

\- In addition Miss Hobbs couldn’t leave the country without her passport, so she’s still somewhere in the United States.

\- You’re not making things easier, you know, -Alana plonked herself down on one the chairs near the counter and leaned her cheek upon her hand, dejected. She didn’t quite memorized how she walked this way here, but no matter what they always ended up in kitchen. Every house has a safe zone, where the host and guests feel most comfortable. Apparently it was just outcome of his former work but only in the Doctor Lecter’s house «safe place» was sharp and looking more like a surgery room place.

\- It’s not my duty, doctor Bloom. The truth often isn’t pleasant.  I know that you worry about Abigail, but without her usual provocative mask Mrs. Glicker is really loyal wife as well as good mother.

Hannibal hadn’t meant to be a compliment, but Alana took it that way, giving him a strained grin, that was an echo of her usual smile. He held her stare for less than a second and averted his eyes. Alana gasped in shock.

\- You got a crush on her…

\- It would be unacceptable, - he denied but was easy to see through his lies.

\- All buttoned-up and proper Doctor Lecter has a crush on a married woman, - she said, almost laughing, - Thanks goodness I finally got a proof that you are human.

Hannibal didn’t really understand why this situation, which was hypothetically tearing down not only his reputation, made Alana so amused, but it seemed to delight her. They were keeping silent while he was arranging tea. But when he was pouring it in cups his phone placed in pocket vibrated. Hannibal excused himself and checked it up, quite surprised by the fact, that incoming message turned up to be from Wednesday.

\- Help! – It said. The second SMS came couple of seconds later; - We might have accidentally dyed Abigail’s hair black.

-  Well, Doctor Bloom, - he chuckled, opening attached picture and turning his phone so Alana could see the screen too, - I’ve just got a proof that they are doing well.

The proof was a blurred selfie of them both- Wednesday and Abigail – reflected in some mirror-looking shop window. Alana enhanced the photo so she can get a better look at their faces.

\- Abigail is smiling… Never seen her doing it like this. Showing her teeth.

\- Do you trust Mrs. Glicker now? -  Hannibal asked. Alana shook her head.

\- No. Nevertheless, she acts irresponsibly.

Hannibal walked around the counter and almost pressed full teacup into her hands. He stood too close, where normally nobody was allowed, but it didn’t felt like invasion – more like testing the waters.  Alana’s heart was racing, drumming in her throat and stomach at the same time. Too close, to intimate. Hannibal smiled at her. She let him here - in her personal bubble - by herself, or she was thinking so. Doctor Bloom was always so good at hiding her fear. It had never shown in her eyes, or in the lines of her face, but pulse beating furiously on her neck betrayed her this time.

\- Wednesday just creates miracles out of nowhere. It’s an ability we usually loose as we get older.

-Oh, brilliant, – Alana finally exhaled, realizing that she was holding her breath for all this time,- I hope Abigail won’t take her as freaky fairy godmother.

\- Probably a fairy godmother is exactly what she needs.

* * *

 

This started like a joke – one of many popping out during their «dinner escape», but it definitely got out of control the very moment they came through the door of a small inconspicuous shop without the usual neon signboard.  The shop turned out to be a boutique looking quite the opposite from the way it seemed from the street: plain but far from simple, styled mostly in white and gold. Shop assistant – a woman at her fifties - smiled at them and inquired whether they needed help.  Wednesday asked her to find something classical as a warm-up.

Abigail flipped the price tag once again wanting to unsee those numbers.

 - Breath,- she told herself, - just breath.

Minimalistic-looking dress costed more than she was able to afford to pay for a semester in college. She pressed her forehead against the mirror in a surely gilt bronze frame and tried to calm down. It was too much. Everything was too much. Though the fitting room was enormous, she still felt like the walls were closing in. She pushed the door open and step out into the hallway, just to be met by a surprised glance of Mrs. Glicker that already had made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs at the wall.

\- I can’t, - Abigail picked up her coat from the hanger and tried to put it on as fast as possible. She turned around back to the gigantic mirror to fix her scarf. In reflection she could see Wednesday stand up, leaving her bag on the coffee table and walking towards her. She stopped right behind Abigail’s shoulder.

\- Wrong size?

In the corner of her eye Abigail caught the same shop assistant that was about to bring them two more dresses turned around and hid for not interrupting conversation. How polite of her. Abigail nodded, extremely wary of telling the truth. Beyond all situation was embarrassing.  No matter how she was going to act – accept or deny – standing right there was enough and she didn’t really want to bring «Pretty woman» thoughts up to make it worse.

\-  Doesn't matter. I just can’t.

\- You do like the dress, don’t you? – crooned Wednesday. A moment later Abigail understood why this woman usually avoided eye contact. All she did was simply cocking her head and meeting eyes in the mirror – normal thing for all the other people, but this «normal thing» made entire Abigail’s skin itchy. There was something with not proper name for- something dark and horrifying - in very deep of Mrs. Glicker’s eyes. Just for once Abigail had seen something close to this in her father’s, but in was like comparing puddle with Pacific Ocean.

\- Yes, – she squeaked.

\- Then stop it… - Wednesday sighted, - I can literally hear you trying to think up an excuse for leaving.

She crossed the divide between them with firm hand that made Abigail want to square her shoulders.

-Please, tell me what do you see. ‘Cause see a woman, who can easily walk through crowd of haters with head held high. I see someone beautiful, - Abigail felt tears pricking the back of her eyes, but Wednesday continued with a devilish smirk on her face, - Oh, also I see a girl… She’s scared to death by people that surround her. This girl once set fire to a summer camp she was sent to.

\- You’re a bitch … - Abigail realized that she said it loud only by the tightening grip on her shoulder.   

\- Thank you. – Wednesday replied. Abigail allowed the woman to swing her back around, but now it was her turn to look elsewhere but not in the eyes. Still Wednesday didn’t let go off her upper arm, slyly smiling, as she wasn’t offended even a little. - Now look at me.

There was a long pause before Abigail managed to do that she’s been told.

\- Why do you do this? Express gratitude for uncomplimentary words?

\- It’s one of the things my mother taught me before she died. Simple logic, – Wednesday said, by way of explanation. - If they curse you – they are jealous. If they are jealous – you’re better than them.  Since you’re already in a sticky situation you’d better take it as a piece of advice for yourself too.

\- I’ll remember.

\- And another couple of them following up. First one. We wear clothes as armor. You can’t go to the war in an armor made of cardboard and good one coasts adequately. And the second. Black is universal color. If you’re not sure which one is going to be proper – always choose it.

\- So… not this blue one.

\- Exactly, - Wednesday regarded Abigail for a long minute and then nodded to her thoughts, - You know what, screw mass-market. Let’s get you to a fine tailor. You would need at least one proper evening dress.

She turned on her heels, excused them both, picked up her reticule and almost dashed to the street; utterly forgotten that Abigail was still too weak for any running.  Wednesday only stopped when abnormally cold and strong for end of September wind unshrouded the folds of her mantle. Miss Hobbs came up with her a few seconds later.

\- Why should I need it? – she asked, catching her breath.

\- It’s my turn to throw a Halloween ball. I was planning to send invitations next week.

\- You shouldn’t do it…

\- Send invitations? – Wednesday crooked her eyebrow, teasing more, than really misunderstanding.

\- You know… all this.

\- If I were your mother, would you allow me to buy you a fine dress?

Abigail couldn't think of anything she wanted more than not being the daughter of The Minnesota Shrike. And it wasn’t very hard to imagine growing up with someone like Wednesday as a mother. It was going to be a life constantly accompanied by emotional deprivation - started with a foster nurse, continued by several nannies, a resident governess up next, then - boarding school and as a cherry on the top of raising the republican - Ivy League college. In that case, a dress wouldn’t be a problem at all. Abigail pulled her - now ebony black - strand in order to get back to reality.

\- It would be a completely different situation – she summed up.

\- It’s not, Abigail. I don’t want to get your hopes up, cause procedure usually lasts for years, and more likely you just gonna become emancipated through a court order. But as I mentioned before me and Joel… we would love you to join our family. No pushing, the decision is completely up to you.

There _was_ a lot of pushing, in Abigail’s eyes, but a feeling of being forced was somehow familiar. At least this time it wasn’t about killing people. All she had got to do in the end was stand still on a short pedestal and let the tailor – woman in her seventies with red hair of unnatural shade - take all measurements required for a dress and exchange short phases with Mrs. Glicker.

She managed to catch only a few scraps of their conversation through sledgehammer of heartbeat in her ears. They declined something called «queen Anne» as well as «drop waist». The general consensus was princess seam and lace illusion with a turtleneck – Abigail wished she knew the meaning of all these words but she couldn’t brace herself and ask.  

-Since you came here under Wednesday’s escort I’m not asking you about the color, young lady, - Greta, Margaret Leviathan-Darcy to be precisely accurate -  left measuring tape hanging loose on her neck and stood up from her knees much easier then woman of her age should do, - Black as sinner’s soul. Am I right?

All Abigail could do was humming in affirmation, because she didn’t trust her voice right now. She wasn’t sure, that she ever would be able to do it. But she eventually could. 

Dress put in a black box she got with quite shocked by the address of facility delivery man the evening before Halloween accompanied by a set of vampire fangs and silver shoes wrapped in tissue paper was out of comparing with things ever been in her wardrobe. Matte silk was smooth and stretchy just enough for being comfortable to wear but yet holding the shape. Telling the truth Abigail used to have a strong belief that there is no significant difference between custom-made and ready-to-wear clothes since she hadn’t had any body problems such as loss of stature, kyphosis or too big breasts. It turned that she was wrong – this dress fit her like a second skin with no extra folds or unnecessary tension.

Abigail admired herself in a small mirror on the wall of the hospital room not knowing how to apply claws to her own teeth. It seemed to be some simple act but she didn’t have any glue. She had a surreal and odd feeling not because she was putting on evening gown at 2 pm, no, but because of the whole Cinderella story, she found herself placed into.

Doctor Lecter was going to pick her up аt half past two since they needed to be at Westfield at six. Then they were to meet with Will, who was riding from Wolf Trap so he would be able to drop his car at Baltimore. Wednesday asked them both to keep in secret that Halloween dinner was, in fact, a real ball, not even a party, but the moment the man slammed the door of his car and strode towards them Abigail understood that it was going to be a long and awkward drive. Agent Graham was definitely suspecting something, though he was trying to play it cool.

* * *

 

Westfield turned out to be one of many American dream suburban towns with perfectly manicured lawns and white knee-high fences. On their way through streets they saw lots of really small kids – almost toddlers - trick-and-treating without any supervision. Will snorted, turning away from another idyllic picture.

\- Something wrong? – asked him Hannibal, closing the car throttle before they turned to the street that went right by the cemetery.

-I’ve seen enough of such places. It’s exactly that type of a town Steven King wrote about - just a facade that hides domestic violence, racism, teenage pregnancies and valium addiction. Nobody would hear you scream on the top of your lungs.

\- It seems peaceful, – Abigail put her two cents from the backseat.

\- Watch carefully and wait, - answered Will sharply before he sighted in regret, - Told you I’m a bad company.

\- May I ask why … - whatever Doctor Lecter was going to ask stayed unspoken. Boy around his seven ran right in front of the car and Hannibal hit the brakes with superhuman speed of reaction. It seemed like a miracle that they didn’t hit him. They all got out the car just to be completely sure that the boy didn’t get hurt.  Cursory examination showed just light abrasion on both of his knees from falling on the asphalt and nothing else.

\- Jimmy… Jimmy, are you okay? – Woman dressed like one of Disney characters rushed towards the kid that already got all blubbery. She picked him up from the ground and gave the boy the most suffocating embrace imaginable. -Shh… mummy got you.

His crying got even louder.

\- Is everything all right? - asked Hannibal by right of the driver.

 The woman turned her head but a second after she saw Will’s hand on another man’s shoulder her apologetic and almost friendly facial expression changed into an evil stare.

\- Burn in hell, sodomites – she hissed. Hannibal only raised his brow - it was her luck that Westfield always was out of the hunting area of Chesapeake Ripper.

\- Well, I have to admit that you were quite right, Will – he said when both of them - kid and his mother -passed out of view somewhere at the backyard. Only then Will took his hand off, completely realizing how they looked in stranger’s eyes and why woman cursed them in that way.

Abigail spared them from having to say something.

\- Are you fine? 

Hannibal nodded.

\- It’s less than a mile left. Let’s get there before anything else happens.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... new chapter. It was getting too big so I decided to post it like it is. Hallucinations, ghosts and dub-con drug use live here. Smut gonna be in the next one.

Hanging Tree Close 13 they reached at quarter to six was the last house on a dead end street for some unknown reason placed between buildings with numbers 12 and 11. But comparing to small from-five-to-ten-room modern cottages Westfield consisted of, three-story Second Empire mansion looked like a real-life castle. It was even made of some sort of grey stone. Front lawn of it was decorated by three skeletons hanged up on the big oak tree, dozen cheap-looking plastic jack-o-lanterns and tons of fake spider-web. There was light in almost every window facing the street, where already at least ten cars were parked.

Will shrugged. He could feel a tidal wave of weird energy that was always following Wednesday like perfume, so even without checking the address up, he could say whom this house did belong to. Mrs. Glicker opened the front door by herself, squeezing out a senior butler that was at least two-meter tall.

\- Are we too early? – Asked Hannibal then they finally kissed their hellos as she was still wearing an apron that in bloody letters was saying “I’ll tell you the recipe, but then I’d have to kill you”.

\- No, you’re right in time, - Wednesday turned to the butler,- Lurch, dear, can you show them into the green salon, if Joel is still there. By raised eyebrows, it was easy to say that her request was different from the usual one, but the man didn’t say a word. However, the guests didn’t manage to leave the hall when the doorbell rang again. Will couldn’t help but look over his shoulder. There was a pair of twinks hanging about the threshold. He screwed up his eyes – no, the blonde one was a woman with a pixie haircut just dressed up in a black tuxedo over jumpsuit of the same color.

\- Cain, it’s so nice that you finally decide to introduce your fiancé to the whole family not only to your old parents.

\- Maman, arrête de m'embarrasser*.

\- No, I won’t. And we both know this; - the laughter of the older woman was the last Will heard before they turned around the corner. Her husband was to be found not at the green salon as Wednesday said, but in the library reading out loud «A Dance with Dragons» to ten-year-old twins that were hugging a big black dog and using it as a big pillow.

\- Ladies, it seems all for today.

The man closed his book and put it aside before he stood up and shook his hand with Hannibal.

\- Nice to see you again, Doctor Lecter - he said,- … you must be mister Graham – Mr. Glicker furiously squeezed Will’s palm before he turned to Abigail that was trying her best to hide behind men’s backs, - and miss Hobbs. I hope it's not too forward of me to kiss your hand.

Abigail nodded extending her hand in a clumsy and embraced manner.

\- Do you happen to know Madonna and Mistress? – Girls waved at them showing which one is which. There was something incredibly creepy in their appearance and behavior - everything about them was mirrored: hair parts, dominant arms, even moles – Missy had one on the same place Marilyn Monroe did and Donna on her right cheek. It seemed like someone just pulled reflection of a normal child through the invisible border and turned doppelganger into a real person.

\- We’ve met the one before last Halloween…  - answered Hannibal.

-Oh, please indulge me; - Joel pressed his palm to his chest and returned to his armchair giving them all a silent permission to sit down too,- I’m suffering from some memory loss. Most of it still here, but some is gone with those bullets.

\- You have nothing to apologize for. It’s a pleasure to be introduced to such Mesdemoiselles once again.

Both of the girls rolled their eyes at the same time and finally let the dog lie still and quiet.

\- Papa, is it okay if we show Mr. Graham our fishing lures? –asked one of them helping sister to stand up from the carpet.

-  Maman once said he likes fishing, – continued the other.

\- It’s not me you should question, - smiled Joel.

\- Mr. Graham, would you do us an honor? – Will was really amazed how these young children could keep straight faces and serious tone while they were saying such things because he couldn’t even take a brief glance at them without chuckle eliciting. So he looked at Hannibal pleadingly asking for etiquette advice. There is no way he would be able to survive small talk with someone like Mr. Glicker and not fuck everything up, but was it acceptable to use children’s spontaneity as an excuse for leaving? Doctor Lecter slightly nodded.  Will cleared his throat to conceal this silent dialog.

\- My pleasure, ladies, - he did his best to copy that self-contained manner of speaking but it was a really poor acting, - show the way.  

\- Sirius, fuss*!

The dog stood on its paws and stretched itself. If Will had had any doubts what Sirius wasn’t a simple dog - he hadn’t them now facing real wolf hybrid. He let a small gasp of surprise memorizing how dangerous wolfdogs told to be.

\- Sirius stays here, - insisted Joel, - some guests wouldn’t like dog hair on their clothes.

Girls nodded, pulling Will by the hand out of the room, but they didn’t reach the point of destination as they run across Wednesday in the hallway. She blocked the way to the semi-circular staircase by raising her leg and putting it on a side rail. Will scrubbed his hand down his face – there is no way it was his fault that he saw garter belts as well as edge of stocking flashing in the high slit of her dress.  

\- Where are you three going?

\- Up! -  Missy claimed.

\- We want to show him those artificial  fishing flies aunt Ophelia brought from Taiwan, - explained the other girl.

\- Save this mood till the next time… - Wednesday came closer to them and fixed wrinkled bows on girls’ heads,- It’s okay if you ignore you elder brothers and their friends, but it’s gonna be rude if you ignore the other guests that are already arriving at the ball.

\- But, maman… - whined girls in synch out of a children’s habit of contradiction. Will sighted, when they ran away leaving him along with Mrs. Glicker. How he let himself been pulled in this upper crusts’ gamesmanship? At least now he understood why Doctor Lecter that was talking something about «vampire-themed black tie optional» bothered himself that much as to supervise the choice of costume. But still Will wanted to ventilate certain points.

\- Ball? – He miffed, - I was told that is was supposed to be a family dinner.

\- It’s not my fault I have a big family.

That sad apologetic smile – Will had seen it way too much in his life, he had _felt_ it way too much touching his own lips. He got it wrong first. They were not «of same cloth», now he would have said it more accurate: they had the same hard drive, but different software.  Wednesday was used to hide behind strict rules, all those dos and don'ts of polite manners prescribed to society woman, like a façade. She accepted the American dream as life pattern and he made a freak FBI special agent out of himself, but they both were existing instead of living.

\- It’s not like you are happy about this fact.

\- Life itself is a miserable thing, but everything gets even more miserable when someone takes it from you. One way or the other.  

Will closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His constant headache was getting worse than usual.

\- How many?

\- Of what? – Wednesday descended a couple more of stairs, so they were standing not exactly face to face, but she was slightly higher than him.

\- People, - he whispered as her face was getting blurry again and then - paler and sharper. At least he was a little more prepared for it.

\- Sixty six pairs, including you, me, Joel, four our children, Hannibal and Abigail. 

\- It’s not that much. Sometimes there are more at my lectures.

\- It’s everyone that’s left. Old ones keep dying one by one and new generation… - she looked away,   meticulous with her word choice, -  They prefer to reject their family, to become those people that were burning our ancestors at the stake.  Addams family is fading into none.

\- Adams? - the question left his mouth before he was able to hold his tongue. He remembered this last name from history lessons at school when the topic was about one of the USA presidents, not like he paid politics proper attention. Wednesday nodded.

\- With two Ds. My maiden name. There is an old family legend that is distorted from Latin «adamas». The first known of our family as Addams was seriously wounded during the Battle of Ascalon in 1099 and they mistook him for already dead and left him on a battleground. Christians set fire to everything that couldn’t take with them and in those flames the devil appeared, suggesting him a deal. The answer he gave differs depending on the source. Some say he accepted the offer, the others - that he declined and in case of that devil cursed him. But twenty five years later in future to be called Godfrey Adamas walked across the whole Europe and returned to his homeland carrying a package of diamonds with him. Since he returned he had unbelievable luck, - she said as they walked the hall and stopped right beside wooden Viennese doors.

\- Was it that bad?

\- Oh yes, the priest got jealous of stones he didn’t donate to the church and said he was touched by the devil… And no one except Godfrey’s younger sister stood by his side when he was accused of witchcraft. Scared for their lives they both ran away only to find the new family in a band of outlaws that hid in the forest.  Days went by, but blood ties have been - and always shall be – our support and our family – that revering old traditions part, - She leaned closer and whispered, putting her ripe plum lips to the very Will’s ear, -  still happily greets all wicked souls.

He started back from Wednesday like a like a scalded cat. There were black spiders in her hair; they were running out her eyeless sockets, her mouth and her nostrils, filling the room with cosmic speed.

-  Dammit, - Will mumbled, gasping for air. He pulled aspirin out his breast pocket and dry shallowed couple of pills.

\- Something wrong?  - asked him the woman carefully touching his sleeve. Then Will lifted his eyes everything already returned to normal.

\- A migraine…  - he lied. After all, it wasn’t a complete lie – his head was indeed splitting in two. 

\- Shall we? – Wednesday nodded toward the door – the only obstacle left between them and the buzzing sound of voices in the ballroom.

\- And them?

\- I’m sure they have used the shortcut, - she slightly pushed the door and it cracked open letting them both into a sea of people mostly dressed in black with occasional other colors. Joel that was standing next to Hannibal and Abigail as well as some old completely bold man that waved at them.

\- Uncle Fester, let me introduce you Will Graham…

The man smiled, grabbing Will’s hand and shaking it far more times than it was needed.

\- Like bags under your eyes, how you managed to get them? – there was something childish innocent in this old man, that made his words sound like a genuine compliment – not a cruel taunt.

\- Sleep deprivation, nightmares and non-standard workday, - laughed Will in response.  But soon after a couple of meaningless sentences the six of them divided into two smaller groups.

\- Wednesday, I’ve brought some extra fireworks… They are bombastic, - reminded uncle Fester before he dragged Joel and his wife to the door leading to the garden. Hannibal followed them with his eyes for far too long that rules allowed. Neither Mr. Glicker with his pencil-thin moustache and big glasses, nor Wednesday – short and more than slightly underweight, was of magazine cover types, but despite what people might say about them (shotgun wedding, old money presumed to be coming from Russian mafia bootlegging alcohol during prohibition – ok, here Abigail would have had to admit that he googled Wednesday up after their first meeting) these two had a certain charm.  Dr. Lecter ravishment was understandable, but if she – teenager - figured out in three minutes that he’s longing for another man's wife, what others might think of them?

\- How the lures? – asked she instead when Glickers finally disappeared out of view.

\- Wednesday didn’t let me into the children’s room. – Will leaned against the wall, he pushed his glasses up and pressed bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger hoping that pain could ground him.

-… And ruined your plan to hide there for the whole evening, - smiled Hannibal. He was right, as usual, but couldn’t he keep his observations to himself?

\- I’m still mad at you both for lying. By the way whose idea was it?

Conspirators didn’t answer, presenting a united front against him. They worked together - it was nice, but not “behind his back” part. Will wished to be a part of anything these two (probably three, because this time Wednesday has been certainly involved) were planning and implementing.  This wish was frightening by its novelty.

\- Ladies, gentlemen and everyone who’s sick and tired of those stupid binary rules, - Joel’s loud, perfectly studied voice coming from the stage built for musicians yanked Will out of his thoughts.

– Let me have your attention. Tonight is one of those nights when our family gets together and by “family” I mean not only immediate blood-relations we are born into, but also all those people that are sharing our outlook. Samhain whose origins lie in ancient pagan years mere the beginning of the darkest days of the year. Through centuries this festival evolved but it has always been about honoring darkness living in our sinful souls and remembering those who have passed on, ‘cause All Hallows' Eve is a liminal time when the boundary between our world and the underworld is easy to be crossed. Today the dead can visit us if only we wish hard enough them to. In that case watch out: some among us might be not quite alive, but undead. And as always, to absent friends - we still miss you and look forward to seeing you in the afterlife or vice versa. This is where we begin.

At the end of this short speech, there was a storm of applause that was going quieter and quieter till it faded into none. Mr. Glicker jumped off the edge and walked to his wife standing still just a few steps away. He placed his right palm on her shoulder; she did the same with him, taking the offered hand – an almost processional dance hold.

When the music started, Joel skipped a couple of beats, searching for familiar rhythm in song, and then made the first step smoothly pushing his partner to move too. Looking at them it was easy to decide than gliding the edge of the circle was a piece of cake. The couple was waltzing clockwise around the room – in the direction opposite the one that was normal – thereby earning an almost scandalized look from Doctor Lecter, but for an unsuspecting viewer it was like some kind of dark art, as their feet were barely touching the floor.  Joel caught Wednesday’s left hand and turned her so furiously that narrow dress spread out along the slit.

The second couple to enter the circle was Pugsley Sr. and his wife Gina, the next were Lucas Beineke married to elder Wednesday brought to the word by Morticia and Gomez and then almost every couple in the room, and they all kept the same wrong rotation vector.

\- You are not quite here today, - said Joel grasping his wife firmly round her waist. Wednesday leaned to this touch. She sighed heavily, breathing out a long breath out of her lungs.

\- I think I’m going insane.

\- I was pretty sure that you already crazy enough, my dear, - he easily let his wife take the lead in the dance, - Tell me what’s on your mind.

\- Will Graham… - she dipped her head and let herself to be spun under Joel’s arm three times. But when she came back around to face him, the usual smile was gone. No question about it - her husband was visited by green-eyed monster.

\- Should challenge him to a duel?

\- No… just... – she shook her head as if it could make her think more clearly. - The more I get to know him the more I think he might be Purbert.

\- Louisiana accent is hard to get reed of, not me to tell you. But it’s not making every around his thirties man coming from this state you brother… - another spin.

\- Nine… Nine people independently of each other called me his elder sister. Jack Crawford, Abigail Hobbs…

\- I got your point, - Joel interrupted her mid-sentence, - Do you need my approval for that you have planned and at least half done?

\- Just want you to be aware.

\- What if you’re wrong and he’s not Pubert? Should I help you to hide the other body?

Wednesday bit her lip holding back laughter. 

\- Where did you get that horrible idea, bubbale? I’m not killing Will…

Mr. Glicker furrowed his brow, considering this idea and its possible implications. What could possibly go more wrong, than it already did? When he proposed Wednesday years ago he was fully aware how dangerous and crazy this young woman is. But he accepted living on the edge of the blade the moment they kissed through the fence.

\- …Yet?

\- In any case. There is a great difference – Will is not claiming himself as Pubert as others did. We’ll put him on DNA-test and if the answer is no – we won’t tell him anything.

There was a long pause as the other dancing pair got too close for overhearing their words, but when they were at a safe distance again the conversation continued.

\- And if he is?

\- We would be able to give him the proper funeral.

\- Right… At least cemetery borders on our backyard.  But test first?

Wednesday smiled back at him, letting go of hand and clapping among the others to the quartet that finished the waltz. He had to read her lips saying “of course”.

Will was quite surprised by the fact that Doctor Lecter skipped the first dance and the second two, watching the ball from the same corner he tried to hide in. They didn’t do much of the talking as their usual themes were either too personal or too gore, and Abigail was there too, nervously tapping her feet in music rhythm. It wasn’t one of the high school balls she used to attend, starting with real crystal stemware instead of red solo cups and ending with most of the quests having lifetime partners and kids. So it wasn’t hard to notice that in a pause between dances Wednesday whispered something to her younger son. Will couldn’t remember his name, it was something from Bible and it started with L. It wasn’t Luke or Lazarus, though Mrs. Glicker mentioned it more than once. By the time the late teenage walked to them, Will started to sweat like a whore in the church. Finally, his memory took pity on him. Wednesday’s middle kid was called Lucifer. And he got the best of his parents, looking like the real long-haired devil in the flesh.

\- May I have this dance, young lady? – Lucifer bowed slightly to Abigail that was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack.

\- I don’t know how, - she mumbled, grabbing Hannibal by his shoulder from instinct. Doctor Lecter covered her hand with his, dragging his thumb across the wafer-thin skin.

-And you won’t find out how hanging with daft and grumpy old men, – he was looking at Abigail with fatherish concern before grabbed her by the wrist and assisted her into the arms of Lucifer, -  Keep her as far as possible from the line.

\- Yes, sir… – Lucifer’s voice was getting quieter, as he was guiding Abigail into the center of the room,- There is a small trick for dancing. You can step on the rim of the sole, so every time I make the move you’ll feel it.

\- Daft and grumpy? – asked Will after a pregnant pause.

\- I wonder why "old" doesn’t bother you.

\- I’m much older than people think I am.

\- So… - Hannibal gave him one of those looks that books take pages to tell, he was much more than simply curious out of the infernal bore, -  How old you are?

Should he tell the truth? Will drowned rising hesitation in his half-empty glass of whiskey.

\- I don’t know myself. Father lost my birth certificate and there are Swiss cheese holes in my school education because we never stayed at one place for more than a month or two, so when it came to reconstruction of the documents for police academy I said a random year of birth that seemed acceptable. It made me thirty four now.

\- I expected that you are less than thirty.

\- Maybe. Nobody knows.

Doctor Lecter squeezed his shoulder. Warm sensation coming from this touch was coiling in Will’s stomach. It was an almost forgotten feeling – when physical contact was allowed and well greeted by his rebel mind.  Will saw how Abigail was passed from hand to hand to another partner. It was clear that all she was needed for starting having fun was a little push, so she would be able to put the blame on someone if anything goes wrong. Hannibal was silent for a long time watching them too, he also didn’t want to spoil the moment till music changed again – this time for a hardly recognizable cover of “Fly me to the moon”.

\- Shall we? – he asked. Will froze with his arm raised, in a variation on the reverse protective gesture.                                                          

\- Took a pity if not on me then on your oxfords cause I have no idea how to deal with the foxtrot. And it’s impossible to remove scratches from patent leather.

\- Noted. By the next time, I should give you a lesson or two.

\- By the next time, I’m gonna hide in Alaska both from you and Wednesday.

Will’s grumbling wasn’t annoying, it was more like white noise covering confusion. Corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched slightly, indeterminable look in his eye.

\- Alaska is not a big state.

But this idyllic aftermath of their conversation was destroyed by others, still existing in the room. Hannibal got dragged into his element of polite bowing and scraping, leaving Will alone with another glass of alcohol and one more. Or was it two? Whatever. By the time Doctor Lecter stole Wednesday for another dance (whichever way you look at it, tango was a rather risky choice) he was tipsy enough for not seeing anyone around.

\- He is showing off again, - said someone with a thick accent. Will turned around and glared at the stranger, that was trying to start a conversation, but he couldn’t quite fix his gaze on woman’s face instead of big scar crossing her chest from left to right. It started from the crook of a long neck and ended somewhere under the clothes - if dark aubergine dress that was held up by confidence and nothing else could be called that. As most of Glickers’ guests, this lady was outside of the canonical description of beauty. She had a rather big mouth, pale eyes and her ashy blond hair combed in half French twist was flat and thin but self-confidence and good bearing more than offset all the flaws. Will swallowed when he had understood: the wound that now turned into old white line should have been on the very edge of the mortal. It took a lot of effort from him to stop starring.

\- Who?

\- Aniba…

\- Sorry? You mean Hannibal?

\- Yes, - she nodded, - never could get the pronunciation right.

\- Do you know him? - asked Will. There was a spark of undemanding affection in woman’s eyes, but it lasted less than a second.

\- Used to years ago, but I don’t know who he is anymore, - She pursed her lips,-  I’m Mischa, by the way.

\- Will.

\- Nice to meet you, Will.

He lifted his glass to hers and clanged them together; it seemed the only right decision. Mischa winked at him, taking a small sip of wine.

\- You’re besotted with him. Just want to warn you – breaking this heart may cost you a life and these are not empty words.

It was the last thing this woman said to him. Some of the still unnamed men asked her for a dance and Mischa (was is, in fact, short for Michelle or Michaela?) without actually looking at her partner raised up her arm and put it on the right place – everything else was a matter of habit. She didn’t even need to set her glass aside - wine wasn’t even wobbling as she was swaying away.  Lost in his thoughts Will missed the moment then Doctor Lecter appeared behind the shoulder.

\- If you still want to leave as early as possible, we can do it after the next dance. – Hannibal said, his voice soft and slightly breathless. He had beads of sweat forming on the forehead, though his dark green justaucorps was still perfectly fine and looked like it was freshly ironed. Will turned his head from him, searching for Abigail in the room, but he couldn’t find her.

\- What’s different with this one?

\- I guess you shall wait and see because this is where Addamses-style of celebration usually begins.

\- How long do you know them?

\- You want the truth or what it is usually said? - Hannibal face cracked, showing something human instead of the usual icy mask. He lost control only for a second, but it lasted long enough for Will to notice out of the corner of his eye.

\- What _you_ want to tell me.

Doctor Lecter was silent for a moment and Will started to worry, that he had said something wrong. The less he wanted is to make Hannibal close like an oyster - judging from the blank expression on older man’s face he was deciding whether he could trust him or not.

\- I’ve met Wednesday in Florence when I was at the age of youth, we were sitting next to each other in opera and she was the rudest woman ever, – Hannibal’s words were barely audible, almost a whisper.

\- What did she done? – Will stepped closer and muttered too, though no one was truly listening to them.

\- She brought her B4* drawing book and was sketching the whole intermission. She didn’t ask for permission to draw my profile.

\- And?

\- That’s it. I didn’t even ask her name – Hannibal conceded with an undertone of regret in his voice, but words were flat. Will rested a hand on his shoulder.

\- I expected something… - he audibly inhaled, searching for the right word, - spicy, and you were boring even then.

\- And what were you doing when you were younger?

It was a ping-pong game. Hannibal was telling his secrets; Will had to do the same in response. It’s not like he had lots of them, maybe some – the usual amount for a man at his age – but there were things that he didn’t tell anyone.

\- Does Route du Rhum count? – he asked.

\- Can you explain?

\- It’s single-handed transatlantic race. I took part in 2010 but retired due to broken autopilot. Don’t tell anyone in FBI about my shame.

\- It’s impressing, - Hannibal’s tone sounded cool, almost detached, but Will had already known Doctor Lecter enough to say it was one of the warmest in his armoury,  - don’t know why you say so. Sea can be dangerous.

\- I have found peace in the storm, as my father did.

They both missed most of the speech Mrs. Glicker had made while they were talking. She was holding a pair of sharp swords, retelling the history of their family that they all were proud of. Pirates and murders, witches and freaks – Wednesday had mentioned some names, Will knew from somewhere.  It was like the Addams family consisted of everyone but normal people. He scanned the room once again. Dark, pale and odd.  How fair-haired Hannibal came here and fit in like he was a member of this clan? Will loosened his scarf (telling the truth it was not his exactly but forgotten by one of his ex-girlfriends rectangle of gray-blue acetate silk, that was relegated to an obscure corner of the closet from that time when he was normal enough for attracting someone) and undid the second button on his shirt.  He finally found Abigail standing at the other wall next to Lucifer – she perfectly blended in with the crowd. But Will couldn’t fight the feeling that he has been here before, been in this room, saw all those people, but forgot.

\- … everyone can join in if dare, - finished the hostess nodding to her brother, that brought another pair of rapiers from the hall.

Music that started to play for the dance called Mamushka was completely different. It was old and more of folklore. And Will didn’t expect singing… as well as juggling. When he was a kid he went to the circus, but it wasn’t interesting: clown was boring, aerial gymnasts used safety straps, and the lion was sleepy if not drugged, but now he was fascinated by this dance based on swordplay. Pugsley was changed by cousin What – long-hair man, looking like some heavy-metal rocker even in a suit. Wednesday passed her sword to Persephone but soon had to return back, as the woman couldn’t keep up this rhythm for long and dropped sword to the floor.

\- Aren’t you joining in? – Teased Will, cause Hannibal was slowly stepping up farther back, -  It’s not that hard as it seems.

\- I don’t think it’s a good idea, - Doctor Lecter was appalled at the very thought of him possibly taking part in this.

\- Then watch these for me, - Will took off his jacket and glasses and gave them to more than surprised man.

\- Will… - warned him Hannibal, but he had drunk more than it was needed for him to give a damn about how sharp swords de facto were – he should give himself a try, otherwise he would regret standing the whole evening like a cigar store Indian. Will took a deep breath, wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and stepped into the circle.

\- You sure, Mr. Graham? – asked him Wednesday with a smile.

\- It’s based on La Verdadera Destreza  - a Spanish method of swordsmanship. - Will snorted. He had no idea where this knowledge and confidence came from, but he was more than sure in _what_ he was saying, - Nothing complicated.

\- Do your worst, then,- she victoriously throw the sword up in the air but it was going to land miles away from the place Will was standing. Done so, Mrs. Glicker was giving her up-jumped guest a chance to turn everything into a joke. Will looked at the path of motion trying to gauge where he should move. Sword was too far for getting caught in time – all he could do was drop down on his knees with a loud thud and slide. It hurt, but was worth doing, though as the result he got stuck in not so comfortable pose. The only way was up - back on his feet - and Will decided no more and no less than doing a backflip right from his knees. He might have no idea how those off balance tango moves called, but he can show off too.  The vision was getting blurry at the edges, but Will kept on moving, mostly defending than attacking. The only sound except pounding heartbeat and clicking of metal left was music: loud, suspenseful and fast.  He only stopped when he found out that he is holding flat side of spear point blade against Wednesday’s exposed neck while his other hand was on her wrist, preventing the woman from falling on the floor, as she arched her back.

\- Not bad, Mr. Graham – she laughed when she got upright - but I think we both cut it too fat…My dress needs stitches and your hand apparently too. Indeed his left hand was heavily bleeding, and memories started to come to Will – how it was even possible for him to stop sword by grabbing it by the blade? He lifted his eyes, searching for Hannibal or Abigail but saw Misha instead. She blew him a kiss before she turned into a flock of fireflies.

Shallow breathing Will let himself been pulled out of the room. Looking for the first aid kit Wednesday turned on the light in the kitchen, as old-fashioned as the other rooms of her house he had already seen. It was dark, odd shaped and full of strange accessories like a metal skull with ram’s horns - witch's lair comparing to Hannibal’s surgery room. Decorated with similar if not the same grey shale as outer walls of the house kitchen even had a fireplace with enormous black cauldron for naughty children. Will took a look around - wooden clock on the wall was showing five past midnight. He was sure that it is no later than ten.

\- Let me have a look, - the woman asked when she finished with pulling out kitchen cabinet some amber and green glass bottles without labels and checking their content. She put aside one of the pottery packs as well and rolled up her sleeves.

\- It's nothing serious — just a small cut, - it didn’t even hurt and blood already started clotting, as it usually did. Will was often said that his body healed like a dog's, but he preferred not to show anyone how exactly quickly. Sometimes he was normal – and simple bruises healed for days as they should, but on the other side, serious wounds needed just a couple hours before they faded without a mark. That’s why nobody really believed that he was badly stabbed, though doctors had said he should have been dead before the ambulance arrived.

\- It’s not you I care about, but the floor, you’re creating such a mess, - Wednesday opened the water tub  for wetting peace of surgical cloth – so she can clean the wound before putting a bandage on, but when she carefully washed off all the blood – there wasn’t any shallow scratch on the skin just a red puffy line.

\- Oh, boy - Wednesday sighted. Her bottom lip started trembling like she was ready to burst into tears as the child. – It’s not possible.

Something was just ain't right – there was much more than simple shock from seeing unusual things. Will slowly pulled his appendage out of woman’s hands. He never did pay attention to the temperature difference, but touching Wednesday was like touching a dead body – her palms were cold and pale, while he was certainly having some kind of fever. She lifted her eyes and there was panic in them.

\- Told you. There is nothing… – Will started, but Wednesday silently took one of those big meat knives from the closest drawer and slashed her own wrist. Dark blood started to drip slowly into the sink. The first drop then the second fell on the metal –… to worry about.

The woman turned the water on again and put her wound straight under the stream. When she showed her wet hand– her skin was unbroken. They were standing in complete silence, studying each other like they just met for the first time. But Wednesday was the first to break - she closed the gap between them in one slim motion with grabbing Will like a rag doll around his wrist, and furiously squeezing.

\- Don’t get used to this, - she muttered against his chest, - Normally I don’t do hugging.

\- Wen… - Joel walked into the scene with a completely straight face, and stopped at the door- I think it’s time for fireworks.

Will lifted his hands, showing that it wasn’t his fault that was happening, but the woman wasn’t planning to let go of him that quickly.

\- Give us a second… - Wednesday begged. There were billion of questions in her head starting with “What had happened?”, “Why didn’t you both return?” and “Did… did papa die?” but she knew it was the easiest way to scare Will off. How much from that time could really memorize five-year-old boy?  Joel man smiled shyly and nodded at her in understanding – there were some cheats for leaving assumed Pubert and his not-so-family here at least till the morning.

\- Ok… I’ll tell uncle Fester to get ready. Finish up here; we’ll be at the backyard, - Mr. Glicker left the kitchen the same way he entered it, leaving them alone.

\- Healed or not, we have to hide this, don’t we?

Will had nothing against Wednesday’s suggestion. She put a dressing on with a skill of a doctor.

\- Are you…?

\- No… just four kids to gain the skill, - She opened one of the bottles and poured an eighth of a glass of dark liquid for him. – Now drink this.

Will held the glass up to his nose and sniffed. He felt cloves, cinnamon mixed with bergamot, honey and something that reminded him of licorice, but it wasn’t something he could recognize.

\- Smells like cough syrup.

Wednesday flashed him a grin.

\- Sort of. It’s gonna help with nightmares as well as the headache but if I tell you that it really is, you’d have to put handcuffs on me.

Instead of saying something Will set his lips to a glass at took a sip. The drink was awfully bitter, but he made himself to choke everything down.

\- If anyone asks – it wasn’t you who gave me laudanum and speaking of handcuffs I don’t own them.

\- I do.

Will shook his head.

\- Why am I not surprised?

Hannibal was right – after the fireworks guests started to say goodnight and leave one by one. They did the same, but when Hannibal started the car there was a loud bang and smoke started to come from under the hood with a loud hissing. It was neither black one – meaning burning oil, nor white one that could have been steam from a coolant leak – it was red as roses.

\- It’s not good,- Doctor Lecter turned the key back in “off” position and get out of the car after Will that jumped out a second earlier and already opened the engine bonnet, but the smoke, unlike the sound, didn’t stop.

\- Colored smoke grenade, – Will pulled out a rather big cylinder that was still smoking from the gap between the engine parts, and threw it on the ground, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, as these chemicals had a rather strong odor, – It broke rubber air intake hose.

\- How serious?

\- Very…The engine can seize up at any time.

\- So we are stuck… - gave Abigail a verdict, as she loomed over Will’s shoulder. They all were covered in the red raid from the smoke.

\- Something wrong? – inquired Mrs. Glicker that had just said goodbye with to her brother and his family.

\- Do you happen to know any auto shops nearby that are still open?

\- Wednesday bit her lip, she had expected something more elegant from her husband, than using one of uncle Fester’s homemade bombs, but he was following Albert Einstein’s advice  “everything should be made as simple as possible, but no simpler”.

\- No… It’s a small town. The closest going to open at nine, - She closed her eyes, pretending that she’s thinking about possible options, -  You know what, why don't you come back inside? I’ll tell Hella to do the guests’ rooms.

\- Wednesday…- started Hannibal. She raised her hand.

\- It’s the least I can do. Don’t make me stand on my knees – we both know I can.

Guest rooms were placed in the southern part of the house on the ground floor with windows looking to the cemetery. Wednesday said them good night and left after she told them to make themselves comfortable.  But Will had a hard time falling asleep, knowing that there are people behind the wall. He was tossing and turning in too soft bed for a good hour before he decided to get out it. He was quite surprised to hear someone’s conversation. Will looked through the keyhole and saw Mrs. Glicker trapped between opposite wall and Hannibal that has wrapped fingers of his left hand around her neck. He was holding a knife against the woman’s heart and slowly plunging a knife into her body.

\- Go ahead and kill me. Commit suicide, - she hissed. Will pulled the door and pushed the door, but it was closed, he wanted to stop him, but he was drowning in blood that was running like a waterfall from woman’s chest ripped open.

Will woke up from his own loud scream, completely breathless and feeling even more dizzy than usual. He had a metallic taste in his mouth and his stomach was spasming like he was going to throw up. Will made a dash for the bathroom. Mirror was reflecting a man with red stubborn smudges on his face and his hands left by dry imager used in that smoke. He splashed water against his face, but it didn’t help to even out his breath. Will tried to wash stains off once again, but they set into skin looking like fresh blood. And this didn’t really help to calm down after all he had just seen.  A low moan forced its way from his lungs.

\- My name is William Paul Graham, I’m in Westfield, New Jersey…

Huge chilling shadow cast over the floor and then there was a loud click of the light switch behind his back.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Maman, arrête de m'embarrasser (French) - Mother, stop embarrassing me  
> * fuss - German equivalent of «heel» command for dogs.  
> * B-series variant of paper sizes is commonly used in Japan, China and Taiwan. B4 is 257mm × 364 mm


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised not safe for work part- read at your own risk.

For most of the pairs thought years love’s boats smash against the daily grind, but Joel Glicker was happy to find, that he and Wednesday were still above metaphorical water. They changed each other: he told her how to look normal, how to smile without scaring everyone, she made him feel powerful enough to do what he really wants and don’t care that people would say.  Their routine was a steady rhythm. It made things easier that much, that they could finish each other’s sentences and lie in the same way without a preliminary agreement. It was their survival mechanism.

\- You got that face again,  - he was watching Wednesday undressing, removing her makeup and getting ready to sleep.  She hissed, as she nudged the band of her fake eyelashes, pulling them off – a rather painful thing if you don’t dissolve glue used to apply them.

\- Which one?

\- Cat got canary. You did something bad… Very, but don’t feel guilty about it.

\- No I don’t, - she wet her lips, adverting her eyes it was the sight that she’s been too tired and her mind was running at idle power,  - Told ya, it’s him.

\- He…

\- Yes… No cut, though it was.

\- Does he…?

\- I showed him the Curse. He’s been a clever boy back when he was a kid, so I hope he’ll ask the right questions.

\- Would you…?

\- It can wait. In our situation, a couple of days or weeks won’t make any difference. He needs to pull his life back together first without me popping out like Jack in the box.

It’s always been like this with Wednesday got all the answers before questions were framed, telling everyone what to do, including him. Not like he minds.  Joel closed his eyes. His parents were together out of habit by the time he met his future wife. Her elder Addamses’ relationships were ideal to the bone, and he wanted that for himself, so like a hard-driver, he turned himself into external Gomez copy first – just to be laughed at. But his patience was about to be rewarded, and by God’s joke one day now former Miss Addams loved him back like he was and not because she had some daddy issues.

But hardly Joel knew that life with Wednesday will include different knives against his throat as well as other parts, mithridatism and… killing people, though she never asked him for any assistance.  He found it out by accident years ago when Morticia asked him what indents he had had towards her daughter, cause she kept returning home late at night, smelling of cheap hotel soap and wet soil. He told Mrs. Addams the truth, carefully avoiding the sex theme that was elephant in the room. This conversation assured him, that his girlfriend (in those days he didn’t dare to ask for her hand, as she as only fifteen) was cheating on him, and Joel decided to look straight in the eye of man (he hoped it was a woman, so he shouldn’t fight with her) that stole Wednesday. He wanted to catch them in action. He caught. Joel was horrified when he saw a girl he loved hiding a body of the man she just poisoned in a fresh grave. She raised her head and their eyes locked.

She’s a psycho and nobody will find his body. If it is how things should be, him to die as a teenager – he’s happy to be killed by her or no one else in this world. His mind was blank at that moment.  He didn’t run, didn’t move a muscle when she walked to him and flipped butterfly knife open.

-  And what shall we do with you, love? – she asked. His heart tried to escape from the rib cage. Wednesday never called him that way before.

\- Whatever you want.

\- Whatever?  - her hand covered with medical glove raised and slowly brushed across his cheekbone. He could barely feel it but he was craving for more, even if the next touch was going to be deadly, - When I finish here I want to take you to the closest motel, so my usual alibi involving having sex with you won’t be a lie anymore. 

The kiss she gave him was chaste but promising.

\- How many did you kill already? - He found his own voice perfectly calm.

\- Does burring alive count as killing?

\- I guess yes.

\- Then, including Dr. Greta Pinder-Schloss and aunt’s Margaret first husband, this pig counts as number thirteen. My lucky number. 

She let him live instead, dragged him into her devil’s design and made him a piece of her facade puzzle that fit in so perfectly. By the age of seventeen, Wednesday become pregnant, and the list of her victims stopped to grow. She found a way to sublimate her desires and left him babysitting Cain while she was getting art degree in Florence – all those macabre paintings she started to create were the result. But still, it was a miracle that his wife never got suspected.

Joel inhaled deeply and returned home in the present evening by opening his eyes again.  Wednesday already stood up and put her dress on the hanger and turned off the light. The shadows were hiding expression on her face, but her bare skin covered with indelible red paint was glowing in the pale moonlight. He watched her stretching not being ashamed of her nudity. She was good at hiding her inner beast, but now she let it out, just for a second to be shown.

\- Freeze like this, - he asked, and Wednesday did as she was told: on her tiptoes, hands above her head, fingers interlocked. Joel traced white lines of stretch marks on her lower stomach with his fingertips – a visual proof that they are linked to each other till the rest of their lives way more than simply married.

\- You hid my nightgown, - she claimed with her bottom lip sticking out.

\- No… It’s under the pillow. And still, you didn’t tell me, what you have done. Except for everything I know.

\- I gave William one of my potions.

Joel pressed his lips to the back of her neck, inhaling deeply the strange new perfume she bought a couple of weeks ago.  This one smelled like funeral house and flaccid lilies.

\- “Lucky chance”, I suppose.

\-  We’ll see in the morning whether it worked or not.

\- You are a bad girl… - he murmured against her skin. Wednesday put her hands down, reaching for her husband’s forearm and pulling him closer, her back to his front.  She flashed him a grin.

\- I’m aware of that.

\- Do you think you need to be punished for all you’ve done?

\- I don’t feel like begging for forgiveness.

\- I know, just get into bed and have a good sleep. You look like you are about to faint.

But Wednesday couldn’t describe this night as good one, her dreams were filled by memories that were hard to bear, she saw her mother coughing out blood and pretending that she’s fine during another meaningless tea-party with boring local housewives.

_-Just some problems with pastry: Pubert found it funny to interchange labels on pound sugar and lead acetate, but I found it out right in time. You don’t have to worry these mezereon cookies are completely sugar-free._

_\- You keep lead compounds in the kitchen?_

_\- Where else should I keep spices?_

She saw her father like he was in the last days before Morticia died in hospital without anyone allowed to her except doctors - depressed and resigned to fate. He was mooning around the house, waiting for the phone call to break him completely.

_-Where are you this time, my little monster? – Mr. Addams entered the library, leaning down to scratch behind the right ear of the kitty. Wednesday lifted her head, closing her sketchbook._

_\- I was thinking about installations made by Il Mostro di Firenze. He or she turns death - the ugliest thing in the world into art, into renaissance looking imagery. I’d like to meet this person one day and say how I adore what I see, though photos from newspapers never can incorporate the true beauty._

_\- Probably, you should have chosen some police academy instead of art school. You’d see such things much often and in person._

_\- Don’t think I could hide my_   _deep admiration well enough, father._

_\- Fair point, - She smiled, when he kissed her temple, - What are you reading?_

_\- College booklets…_

_\- I can see Columbia Institute’s from here._

_She shook her head._

_\- It' programs only for the film industry or theater.  Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts is quite good, but…I don’t feel like it’s where I belong._

_\- Schools like this are atrocious… In my time college mean no privacy, terrible food, high fence and corporal punishment for students._

_\- So you liked it?_

_\- Yes. – Gomez was silent for a moment, waiting for daughter to say something he needed that much to hear, but she didn’t. If only she knew what to say and how – she would. - Do you consider European education?_

_\- And leaving y'all?_

_\- You can take the baby with you…_

_\- No, I can’t. They never belong just to me._

As a result of all these dreams, she opened her eyes at half past five, having a terrible headache and sickness that reminded of that nausea she had during the last pregnancy.

\- Wen? – huffed half-sleeping Joel when she was leaving the beg.

\- Insomnia. Don’t mind me.

Joel that slipped back to sleep didn’t see her get dressed and escape from the house through the window.

* * *

 

 _Listen, son, this is where I give you the wheel. You gonna steer ship directly into the center of this storm. It’s either we both die or you beat it._   _And even if we’ll survive you’d have to heel bloody corns on your hands for months._

* * *

 

 

 

The sound of the switch scared the hell out of him. Will hastily turned around just to see Hannibal standing at the bathroom door with the same patronizing sneer as he always had on his face.

\- You forgot to turn on the light - he said.

Will focused his eyes. Indeed they say that all men are equal before God.  Stripped out his usual clothes to his underwear, barefoot and with the same redness on his face and hair (will he cut it all off as Will already planned to do for his or he was to find possible solvent for this paint?) Doctor Lecter finally looked like a human being – not one of might-be-lovers of Apollo.

\- I woke you up… - Will gasped in shame; his voice was weak and hoarse, but words said were falling on deaf ears.

\- Is it acceptable if I come closer?

Will nodded, not quite trusting himself to say anything again. His body was boneless and he didn’t really mind strong hands wrapping around his shoulders to pull him in some one-way hug. Hannibal’s cool palm brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead, lips ghosting over the ear as he spoke.

-  You told about nightmares but I didn’t expect them to be such tough.

\- Not my best day, - Will sighed.

\- Undoubtedly it isn’t.

Leaning to this touch Will felt like a drowning man clutching at a razor blade as he remained obedient in not quite suitable for friends position. They were staying like this for a long while, cold from tiled floor getting under skin till it was on the edge of unbearable, but nobody wanted to be the first to admit it.

\- I’m invading your personal space, - Will was the one who revived their dialogue, but he did the reverse of making anything to move over, wrapping his hands around firm body only for support, as he tried to convince himself.

\- You’re welcome here, - Hannibal replied, lightly caressing sweat-dump curls along the hairline at the nape of Will’s neck.

\- Isn’t it too much?

\- Is it for you? – The older man parroted him with some professional tone and when he racked his fingers through the knot in his hair, Will inhaled sharply, his knees getting even weaker than they were.

\- No. For you?

\- Neither.

\- Good, - Will nuzzled Hannibal’s muscle shirt, strong smell of lavender soap from Wednesday’s guest bathroom not hiding the reek of chemical smoke from the grenade. He could feel chest hair through the thin fabric, warm of the body contrasting with cool air coming from the half-open window with opaque glass. Part of Will’s mind screamed that where the tower stands there are rocks but in the deep and dark sea of thoughts and shadows gathering around him Hannibal ought to be the only lighthouse. He told the inner voice to shut up, as the room kept slowly spinning around. Even with his teeth and mouth washed Will still could find the taste of unorthodox medicine hiding behind his tongue. Bitterness. One eighth of the glass Mrs. Glicker gave him- half of a fatal dose for his weight category - was too much for feeling normal even after some sleep, but not enough for the toxic effect. The entire situation had the appearance of a well-planned crime, but Will couldn’t understand her design.

\- Will… - warned him Hannibal, when he shifted his weight in order to get even closer than they were already, - you’ll catch a cold if we keep standing like this. Me probably too.

There was a moment of awkwardness when they were untangling intertwining limbs not quite letting go of each other. Hannibal’s fingers brushed over Will’s back and stayed on his shoulder, ready to catch him if it’s going to be necessary. It’s just what everyone would do finding a friend almost puking out his soul into a sink: take care and provide some support.  But somehow it didn’t feel like Hannibal was just someone. Through months they knew each other Doctor Lecter always looked like a completely composed man, but there were micromotions in his features that indicated affection, a softness in the way corners of his mouth curled up, the tilt of his head and many more addressed only to privileged once.

Will looked up from the floor, losing the last bit of strength left in him to meet Hannibal’s eyes, ready for the lethal cold of undisguised aversion or contempt – but all he could see was sincere emotion and simple “sympathy” wasn’t enough to capture the depth and complexity of what he saw.  Eyes across him were blazing. There was fear, there was hunger, and there was hella a lot of self-discipline, holding the leash of desire.  Will almost heard a voice in his head saying “Carpe Diem” before he surged forward and pressed his lips to Hannibal’s mouth.

It felt different from every single kiss – it’s not like Will never kissed a man before -  but as far as he could remember it never was him who initialized the first one.  Hannibal’s lips didn’t move. The man reminded perfectly still like he was a marble statue, he didn’t reach for him, didn’t push him off. Will was about to pull away by himself, his brain starting to work on an apology when a sudden responding kiss kept him riveted in place. Or has it a hand that somewhen and somehow moved to his hair?

The resulting kiss was slow, but far from chaste: Hannibal masterfully was holding his head right where he wanted him, claiming him and tasting him with silent deliberation like one of those wines: step by step, sip by sip, and only when older man contented himself with the quality of first moves, he parted his lips, a flesh of his tongue felt like a knife ripping through skin.

Will was now the sole focus of all that merciless power and he surrendered, opening to anything and everything the devil wanted. He curled his fingers, clutching the fabric wanting to prolong the kiss that inevitably was going to end.  And it was an experience that due to lack of oxygen made him even more lightheaded that it was possible and let envisioning stars beneath eyelids. Will whimpered into Hannibal’s mouth when grip at his hair become far from comfortable but all he got was a snort and a short pause that lasted less than an instant but felt like an eternity before Hannibal eased away.

\- Пандора совершила ту же ошибку*, - he whispered. His breath was faster now, it was warm against Will’s lips, even when they touched their foreheads and Hannibal lightly brushed his thumb across Will’s cheekbone.  Will didn’t understand the words, but from the mention of Pandora’s name, he got the general idea.  He swallowed.  It seemed that hope was the only thing left in his own  _pithos,_ among the fear of being rejected, to be left floundering in the bloody sea of his own hallucinations caused by too active imagination.

\- But after all, she saved hope, - he protested.

\- It’s just one of possible interpretation… - Hannibal sounded like a mentor of ancient literature class, who was tired of telling copybook maxims to indolent pupils. Slight irritation in his voice was filthier than it should be, - If you have read thoughtful enough: the myth says that she let out everything but it. This also can mean that humanity didn’t have any hope while all the evils were out.

The shiver that ran down Will’s spine told him - Hannibal was pure achiest evil he had accidentally summoned with his social clumsiness. And the pagan god was going to devour the sacrificer or not just because he was rude by waking him up in the middle of the night. Will wished he could step back, to proceed that he had done, but as it turned out he was cornered between the sink and Hannibal who was still pressing up against him with a wicked smile. He had his fingers strong and sure on Will’s upper arm, as he buried his nose beneath his ear and then nipped it.  Will couldn’t help a low moan.

\- Fuck.

\- I don’t think we are in a suitable place for this kind of activity, - was the answer. Oh no, Will wasn’t  going to let leave him high and dry, not after he had felt hardness against his thigh. The next day the doctor will put on another suit, wash that not-blood off his skin and once again become unreachable. Saying "a" by kissing back, Hannibal should have expected an ask for saying "b", whatever that means.

\- I don’t think hosts could hear anything happening  _here_ from their bedroom, even a scream for help from murder victim; - Hannibal’s eyes flicked open wide when Will wrapped his free from bondage hand around man’s throat in act of possession, the black velvet of his tone shocking them both as he spoke, - But if you’re afraid of getting too vocal I can keep your mouth busy.

Will could feel rise and fall of Adam’s apple under his palm, when he bent to that mouth once again, their lips brushing in a promise of a way more. But there wasn’t a kiss, instead of doing something  _that_ oblivious Will released his grip and moved his hand down, to palm Hannibal’s cock through his underwear and squeezed. Hannibal flinched, biting at his upper lip, but didn’t make a sound, though his fingers dug into flesh, making Will hiss of sensation. The realization that Hannibal was still smirking frustrated him. It wasn’t fair – Will wanted it all, every single sound that was possible. Otherwise, he might as well masturbate on his own in complete silence. Will stroked up and down the bulge, and his step-up efforts were rewarded with a short gasp. Hannibal lowered his head and buried face where Will's neck turn into the left shoulder, inhaling the scent of sweat and arousal like it was a drug.

-Put everything off and turn around,  - he growled, - If we leave any evidence, Wednesday will gladly install our bodies as Jean Broc painting.

Without hesitation, Will took off his t-shirt and dropped it on the floor. His boxes needed a little bit more time to join it. Hannibal was watching him with a thoughtful eye, his chest was rising heavily, and his pupils dialed that much that eyes looked black.

\- You mean…

\- It seems it’s you, whose mouth can’t stop, - Hannibal softly pressed his forefinger to another man’s lips to silence him, he couldn’t predict that Will would to do something about it, but he did. Will grabbed him by his wrist and slid his mouth further down, scraping his teeth on the skin before he released the finger with a loud pop.

Will trailed his palms down Hannibal’s arm and along his sides, till he reached the hem of his tee and pulled it up, not quite sure if he could get the man to disrobe without some help. Hannibal obeyed by lifting his arms and then slid off and stepped out of his underwear, tossing it aside with much more grace then Will did before him.

Hannibal straightened up and took a step back, his eyebrow raised in a silent question that couldn’t be read wrong:  _Do you like what you see?_  Of course, Will did, though, years of porn-watching have spoiled his expectations for reality. Telling the truth he would like anything, but the sight was good, and his body was betraying him on all fronts: Will could feel his cock twitch, his mouth go dry.  In his mind, he thanked whoever chose the red grenade from all the possible colors cause the redness of blushing was running from his ears down his face and neck.

\- Just turn around, please.

Disappointed sigh wisped from Will’s throat, but when he faced the sink and Hannibal shoved him forward, a spark of realization flickered in his eyes. Sly-arsed bastard made him look in the mirror. If only he would be able to keep his head up – he’ll see if not everything, but the most. The man behind him was breathing hard, definitely wanting more, but yet his hands were exploring strictly above the waist: all the neck vertebras, upper arms, shoulders. Hannibal stopped his fingers on the white scar line slightly under Will’s wing bone.

\- What was it?

Something in Hannibal’s voice made Will’s heart expanding, the arousal was pooling in his groin and he could hardly articulate.

 - B-Butterfly knife,  - he finally managed, but when Hannibal pressed his lips to the scar inspecting the shape of it with his tongue, phantom pain kicked in Will’s the abdomen and he opened his mouth in a silent scream.

\- I should send flowers to the surgeon who operated on you. The work is done perfectly. He saved your life,- Hannibal curled his left hand around Will's torso and now incredibly slow was running the other one down his chest, crossed his stomach and finally gripped him at the base of his cock and gave it a few light strokes.

Will really wanted to say something sassy, remind doctor Lecter that not all surgeons are slim and arrogant like he is, and that twenty-something-old girl with lip piercing and purple piggy-tails can do this work too, and much better than some butches, but he couldn’t, all he could do was struggle for breath, while keeping as much of sounds it was possible trapped inside his throat.

 - She… It… was… a…woman.

Hannibal didn’t answer, but he sucked at skin Will’s neck. It was almost a bite, not a hickey - the mark teeth had left wouldn’t fade away till the morning or in the next two days or so.  Will’s hands flexed whiteknuckled at the sink and he dropped his head to his chest, but there wasn’t a good way to escape from reality – if in the mirror he saw just faces now he had a full view of his erection trapped between sticky from precum fingers of his psychiatrist that kept a steady rhythm. And he could feel every single corn on that palm. One - from holding the pen, another one - from kitchen knives, and there is a couple more with origins unknown. It wouldn’t last long – it’s not even a love affair, he wouldn’t last long – cause his blood was boiling. Hannibal’s moves became harsh; they jerked his own body as he was simultaneously rubbing his hard cock up and down Will’s cleft and lower back in a wordless suggestion for the next time Will had no intention of refusing, right after making sure that one particular doctor will walk with a limp. He moaned from a mental image of Hannibal bent over the marble island in his posh kitchen -  but was immediately silenced by a palm that smothered his mouth, cutting off most of the air.

-Be quiet … - purred Hannibal right in his ear, and it was enough to throw Will over the edge. Once he thought he got it under control and then before he could even properly blink he was bending between two arms with eyes flattered open wide but not seeing. Besides that his spine made a loud snap a sound that made Will wonder whether he broke it because he couldn’t feel his feet right after.  Will braced his hand on the wall, breath uneven and shallow. Nope, his back was fine; otherwise, it was going to be the silliest sex accident in human history.

\- Hannibal? – he turned around and got down on his knees, not quite trusting his legs that were about to sprawl but it was all I had time to do. The moment he touched Hannibal’s thigh in an effort to decide what would be better his mouth or his hands the man grabbed him by the hair and hot liquid hit Will right into the face. Hannibal collapsed to the floor next to him, panting.

A time passed, how long Will couldn’t really say but he felt like his own skin didn’t fit him anymore.  Sweat was dripping down his back, his body was shivering from the cold and exhaustion that hard that he could hear teeth chatter like he just woke up from another nightmare, but instead of blood was other body fluid that now was drying on his skin. Hannibal sneezed, turning away from him and made an effort to stand up.

\- Bless you, - Bitterness on Will’s tongue had mixed with a burning sensation in his stomach. He fucked out in all possible meanings. The lust fever was gone and it was it. It was clear that for the rest of their lives they’d have to pretend _this_ didn’t happen.  

\- Thank you…

Will glanced up to the extended hand but took it, letting Hannibal line them up and wash off everything from his face with a careful touch. Somehow it was more intimate than sex – the way Hannibal touched his skin, the way his fingers moved feather-light and… caring?

 - But I think lacerated fallen angel had already taken my soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Пандора совершила ту же ошибку (Russian)- Pandora has made the same mistake.


End file.
